Dawn in LA
by BonnieD
Summary: Sequel to “Connor’s Sunnydale Vacation.” It’s a year after Connor’s visit to Sunnydale. Both series’ played out per canon. Dawn is in L.A. and is eager to see Connor again.
1. Default Chapter

"Dawn in L.A." – Chapter 1  
  
Sequel to "Connor's Sunnydale Vacation." It's a year after Connor's visit to Sunnydale. Both series' played out per canon. Sunnydale is no more and Connor is in his new family. The Hyperion is still being used as base of operations although Angel & Co. has taken over ownership of W&H. (Don't y'all miss the hotel set? I do.)  
  
I wrote most of this chapter before seeing Connor's return on "Angel" so it didn't influence me much. I'm creating my own AU version of season 5 "Angel," so anything goes.  
  
*************  
  
The bus was unloaded quickly, which wasn't really a surprise considering no one had any luggage or possessions of any kind. Dawn thought, not for the first time, that some pre-planning about the possible aftermath of the fighting would have been wise. But then, who would've predicted that the whole town of Sunnydale would tumble into the Hellmouth?  
  
The warriors wandered into the lobby of the Hyperion, looking around more shell-shocked than curious. Makeshift stretchers for those too wounded to walk were also carried in and Angel's crew directed them to various rooms in the hotel. Dawn was supporting Maia, who had a nasty head wound. The slayer was heavy, and Dawn grunted as she deposited Maia's weight on the circular bench in the center of the lobby.  
  
Dawn straightened and looked around. She saw Faith guiding Wood up the curved staircase. His wound had been dressed on the bus, but Dawn could see fresh blood seeping through the bandage. He staggered and leaned heavily on the dark haired slayer. Dawn thought vaguely that Faith should've put him on the elevator instead of making him walk a flight of stairs, but one glance at the lineup of seriously injured awaiting transportation by elevator under Giles' care explained it.  
  
Willow was hovering over one of the injured girls, eyes closed, hands outstretched and lips moving in an incantation. Even from a distance, Dawn could feel the energy that crackled around the witch. With her current power level, it seemed like she would be able to cast some blanket healing spell that would fix up everybody at once. But Dawn knew the way magic worked by now – it was all about balance and the ebb and flow of lifeforce. No doubt it would be cheating or even playing with fire for Willow to do a massive healing spell.  
  
Holding one of the younger slayers who had lost her very best friend in the battle was Xander. They rocked back and forth slightly. The girl was weeping while Xander stared dry eyed off into space. Dawn wasn't sure who was comforting whom.  
  
Over near the front desk, Buffy was talking to Angel. Angel nodded and beckoned a small, mousy woman away from bandaging and gave her instructions. She nodded and went to the phone. Dawn hoped she was ordering pizza. It seemed disrespectful to be hungry when others were wounded or dead but she couldn't help it, she was starving.  
  
"Miss Summers?" a cultured British voice spoke from behind her and the girl jumped. She turned to see a thin man with wire-rim glasses standing there. He held out his hand. "Wesley Wyndham Price."  
  
'Has to be a Watcher' Dawn decided as she shook his hand.  
  
He confirmed it with his next words. "I was your sister's Watcher for a brief time."  
  
She nodded. She didn't remember ever seeing the man before, but then she hadn't been privy to much of Buffy's life until after mom died. Dawn mentally shook herself as she remembered that all of her memories of anything before Glory were not real. Recognizing your memories were implanted? Something you never quite got used to.  
  
"Angel suggested, and I concur, that we need to go shopping to purchase replacement apparel for these young ladies. Buffy suggested that you might be able to help me secure garments in appropriate sizes."  
  
'Hehe. MiniGiles.' Dawn's brain giggled. "Sure," she replied aloud. "But," she looked down at her own clothes, which were covered in other girls' blood, "I think I need to change first."  
  
"Certainly," Wesley agreed. "I'm sure we can find something for you from Fred's wardrobe."  
  
Dawn looked across the lobby at the tall, clean-shaven, black man who was carrying one of the girls in from the bus. "Fred?" she said with a puzzled frown.  
  
"Winifred Burkle," he replied, gesturing toward the mousy woman on the phone.  
  
"Oh." A sudden thought occurred and Dawn took a long searching look all around the lobby. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "Where's Connor?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
*************  
  
Connor reclined his lawn chair back even farther and gazed up at the sun until spots danced before his eyes. He wondered how long it actually took to burn up your retinas. He closed his eyes and lay back, enjoying the hot sun bathing his body. The drone of a distant lawnmower reminded him he'd better cut the lawn today or Dad would have yet another reason to bitch him out.  
  
This was a weird summer. A very weird summer. He could hardly believe that high school was finally over. That he had actually graduated ... with high honors and a full ride at USC. He had tossed around the idea of school abroad but eventually decided to stay in California. Mom was thrilled. She wanted him where he could come home and visit on occasional weekends, and Connor had to admit, if only to himself, that he wasn't quite ready to cut family ties and jet off to Europe.  
  
He was excited to go to college yet anxious, and this whole summer felt like a long, suspended daydream from which he would soon awake. High school was over, college not begun, and he was stuck somewhere in between. It didn't help that he had broken up with his girlfriend, Chris. Everyone knew long distance relationships were doomed and so he'd broken it off before she left for her early admission at Brown. He knew it was for the best but he missed her.  
  
His family was driving him nuts these days. Everything his sisters said was annoying and he knew they weren't doing anything different. It was his own lousy attitude. His dad told Connor that he felt at loose ends because he needed to get a job. Dad was probably right but every day Connor continued to lay about like a useless, lazy housecat. He lounged all day and partied with his friends all night and wondered why he felt as if he were living in a dream.  
  
It was weird. Unsettling. He was sure things would get better when he went off to college and began really living life. He just needed something concrete to do.  
  
He sighed and sank even further into the comfort of the lounge chair. Maybe this afternoon he'd go and fill out some job applications. Or maybe tomorrow.  
  
*********  
  
Dawn looked down at the blood-encrusted shirt she was still wearing. The three of them had been closeted in Angel's office for almost half an hour now.  
  
Angel had been pole-axed when Dawn went up to him as he spoke to Buffy and asked Connor's whereabouts. His face wore the expression she'd seen on the two or three vamps Buffy had allowed her to stake over the past year – total confusion and disbelief before poofing into dust. Except Angel didn't poof.  
  
As Buffy said, "Yeah. Where is Connor?" Angel grabbed each of the sisters by an arm and hauled them into the office.  
  
"You remember Connor?" he asked, his face almost savage in its intensity.  
  
"Of course," Dawn replied. "We sorta almost went out for like two minutes."  
  
"And you?" he confirmed, spinning toward Buffy.  
  
"Yes. What's this about?"  
  
It was then that Angel gave a brief synopsis of the events in L.A. over the past year.  
  
"So this Jasmine was planning world domination?" Buffy said thoughtfully.  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
"At the same time that the First was ... planning world domination. Do these guys ever coordinate their schedules?"  
  
It was when Angel reached the part of the story about Connor's melt down, the deal with Wolfram and Hart and the subsequent mind alteration of everyone except Angel that Buffy began to frown.  
  
"You cut a deal with Wolfram and Hart," she said. "And becoming the new CEO of a satanic law firm seemed like a 'good' idea to you?" Her arms were folded and her face set in a disapproving scowl.  
  
"There was no other option." Angel's voice was leaden and his face a smooth, imperturbable mask.  
  
"Compromising with evil is never an option," she stated flatly.  
  
"Right. Like the time you allied with Spike to defeat Angelus? Not an option?" Angel snapped. Buffy stopped dead at the mention of Spike's name.  
  
The mask began to slip and Angel's mouth twisted in bitterness. "You weren't here, Buffy, you don't know what the past year has been like for any of us in L.A. I did what I had to do to save my son." His mouth resolved into a grim line again.  
  
Buffy's expression softened as she glanced over at Dawn. "Okay. Point taken," she conceded. "Family comes first."  
  
She walked over to Angel and looked up at him with serious eyes as she rested a hand on his arm. "Look. I'm really sorry about Connor ... and Cordy and, even if I don't completely agree with it, I totally understand your decision to throw in with Wolfram and Hart."  
  
Angel accepted her apology with a nod.  
  
Dawn watched all this but she couldn't say a word. How could she comment on the ethics of creating a whole new life for someone and changing dozens of peoples' memories when her whole life was a sham? But as she sat there silently listening to Angel and Buffy discuss theories about why the sisters' memories were unaltered, Dawn became suddenly very sure about one thing. She must see Connor again.  
  
"Angel, we should talk about this later," Buffy finally said. "I need to make sure the girls have all been taken care of." She added. "But I'll find out if Xander has true memories and you can check with Faith. Maybe this has something to do with our distance from the source."  
  
Angel agreed and the pair swept out of the office with Dawn trailing behind them.  
  
"You must be Dawn." The mousy woman approached Dawn and spoke in a soft voice with just a hint of Texas twang. "I'm Fred. Pleased to meetcha. If you want to come with me, I'll find something for you to wear." She eyed Dawn's height. "You're a bit taller than me. There are some boxes of Cordelia's clothes. We should go through those and see what we can use for you and the other girls."  
  
A staff of caterers had invaded the lobby and was setting up tables and producing trays and serving dishes of food. The slayers who weren't too damaged swarmed to the fragrant, steaming dishes.  
  
Fred gestured toward the table with a sour smile. "Courtesy of Wolfram and Hart. There have to be some perks for working with an agency of the devil. Come on." She led Dawn upstairs to look for an outfit from the Cordelia Chase collection.  
  
************  
  
Connor was restless. He took another swig of his beer and gazed unseeing across the crowded room while his friends' chatter washed over him. He had nothing to contribute to the conversation. They talked about the same stuff all the time. Their discussions were so redundant it made him want to puke. Surely there must be something more important they should all be doing than standing around Benner's living room getting wasted and wondering which of the girls they might possibly lay by the end of the night.  
  
Through the picture window, he could see the moon shining on the ocean and he suddenly decided things would be better, he'd feel better, if he just went outside for a while. With a muttered, 'I'll be back,' he pushed past his friends, dropped his empty off on the kitchen counter and snagged a fresh bottle from the ice in the sink before heading out into the night.  
  
As he walked from the house down to the beach, Connor wished that Chris was with him. It had been four weeks since he cut her loose, two since she'd left for college, and he still thought of her every day. Sometimes it seemed that it was more the idea of her than her actual presence that he missed but other times, like tonight, it was definitely the feel of her hand in his that he craved. He sighed. Walks on a dark beach at night were meant for couples.  
  
He walked along the edge of the water, removing his shoes so that the surf could lap over his feet. Glancing back at the brightly lit house he had come from, Connor thought maybe he should take his friends' advice and hook up with a random girl from the party. On a hot summer night like this, it beat being alone.  
  
Then, as if conjured by the force of his desire, a female figure appeared ahead of him on the sand. Connor glanced up and there she was, walking the edge of the water, coming from the opposite direction. He grinned and sent up a 'thank you' to God for wishes unexpectedly granted. As she drew nearer, his hopes were confirmed, she was young and beautiful.  
  
"Hey," Connor offered as they came within speaking distance of one another.  
  
"Hello," she responded in almost a whisper. The girl was dressed in a, there was no other word for it, diaphanous, white gown that fluttered around her in the light breeze coming in off the sea. Her blond hair tumbled in a curly cascade down her back. Her feet, as they peeked from under the hem of her old fashioned gown, were bare like his, and her skin was as white and unblemished as a newborn baby. Connor was struck momentarily speechless by her almost unearthly beauty.  
  
"Um, h-hi," he stuttered.  
  
"Hello," she repeated with a teasing smile.  
  
"Nice night. Uh, taking a walk?" he asked, then winced at the extreme lameness of the remark. "Well, duh, of course you're taking a walk. Sorry. I'm just, ah, a little...." He waved the half full bottle of beer.  
  
Her smile widened and she reached out a hand to take the bottle from him. He watched as she put it to her red lips and sipped daintily. She wrinkled her nose at the taste and handed the bottle back.  
  
"So," he cleared his throat and tried to regain some composure, "You live around here?"  
  
"Sometimes," she replied.  
  
"Home from college for the summer?" he guessed.  
  
"Yes," she beamed proudly as if he were a pet dog, which had suddenly learned to talk. "That's right. I'm home from college, visiting my ... parents. And you?" To Connor's surprise, she slipped her hand in his and began to walk along the beach with him.  
  
"Oh, I'm just at a party." He pointed back the way he'd come. "But it got boring."  
  
Her hand was quite cold and Connor wished he could be gallant and offer her his jacket but he wasn't wearing one.  
  
"Well," she said, voice dropping to a seductive purr, "Maybe we can find something to do to make the night more interesting."  
  
Connor swallowed. This was like the ludicrous plot of a porn movie – starring him and a gorgeous chick! Unable to speak again, he simply nodded.  
  
The girl stopped walking and pulled him around to face her. She was quite strong for such a delicate looking little thing. She tilted her pretty face up and Connor instinctively leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were cool and soft underneath his mouth. When she opened her mouth in response he tasted a faint coppery tang, which was odd and sent a pang of memory zinging through him. But before his mind could decode what his senses were trying to remind him of her tongue came out to play and he forgot everything but the sensation of kissing.  
  
After several long, sucking moments, the girl pulled back. "So hot!" she gasped. "So sweet." Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle gold like an animal caught in headlights, as she regarded him thoughtfully. "And such a pretty boy. Perhaps it would be better as a companion...."  
  
"Hm?" Connor was a little too drunk and horny to try to decipher her cryptic remarks. He leaned toward her for another kiss but the girl bypassed his mouth and went for his throat, kissing and nibbling up and down his windpipe. Connor sucked in a breath and held it. His eyes drifted closed at the erotic feel of her mouth moving across his throat.  
  
His arms wrapped around her back and pulled her in tighter. He pressed his already aching groin against her.  
  
She had worked her way over to the side of his neck when he heard a strange sound, amplified by proximity to his ear. It reminded him of the time he'd broken his ankle in soccer practice, a kind of bone grating, tissue squelching sound. His eyes opened and he frowned, at the same moment that the girl's grip on him tightened until her arms around him felt like steel bands and her hands like grappling hooks.  
  
Connor tried to pull away.  
  
"Don't worry, sweet. The pain will be over soon," she murmured and before he could react he felt a sharp pain in his neck as if he'd been cut by several razor blades at once.  
  
Connor cried out and began to struggle in earnest against her supernaturally strong grip. As he felt her begin to suck at the wound she had made, random images flashed through his mind; distorted faces, clashing weapons, screaming victims, the sort of thing that often filled his dreams but never entered his mind during the day.  
  
A burst of adrenaline triggered his fight reflex and he suddenly broke the woman's grip, throwing her away from him with such force that she flew back several yards and plowed into the sand.  
  
Instinctively Connor stepped toward her to see if she was all right. His mother had taught him to never hit a woman. He remembered Mom breaking up a quarrel between him and his younger sister, Kathy, during which he had practically dislocated his sister's arm while yanking her off the living room couch. Mom had scolded him severely, telling him it didn't matter who had called dibs on the piece of furniture, he must never use his superior force against his little sis.  
  
But the woman in white was already back on her feet and flying at him like a cheetah. He barely had time to notice that something was horribly wrong with her face before she hit him and bowled him over. Connor's ethical instincts were superseded by the primal urge to defend himself. He arched up from the sand, shoving his hands against the woman's chest and throwing her off of him again.  
  
Jumping lightly to his feet, he delivered a roundhouse kick to her head. The kick carried him around in a circle but he quickly regained his balance and raised his fists, ready to face her next attack. With a scream of rage, she came at him, shoulder to his solar plexis. She knocked him backward and drove the breath out of him in a whoosh. Connor fell to his knees in the sand, doubled over in pain.  
  
The woman's hand twisted in his hair and she pulled his head back with a jerk, exposing his throat. This time, as she leaned in toward him, Connor got a very clear look at her face. Her brow was ridged all the way down to the nose. Her eyes glittered an incredible gold, and her mouth was opened to reveal white teeth and a vicious pair of fangs where the canines should be. Connor had read "Dracula" and seen enough movies to know a vampire when he saw one, even as his logical mind tried to deny what his eyes were witnessing.  
  
'Cross. Holy water. Garlic. Stake.' His mind searched for a solution. 'Stake!'  
  
He tore his head away from her vicelike grip, leaving a good quantity of hair behind in the process. Rolling to the side, he crab-scuttled away. She approached him in slow motion, a cat now toying with her prey. This gave Connor a window of opportunity to look for something, anything, with a sharp, pointy end.  
  
From the corner of his eye a piece of driftwood caught his attention. It gleamed white in the darkness. Connor grabbed it and jabbed it toward the vampire. She stopped, eyes widening in surprise. "Oh! It wants to play now?"  
  
She kicked out, knocking the wood from Connor's hand as she hit his forearm. But the kick took her off balance and the flowing dress hampered her attempts to regain it. She fell in an ungainly heap.  
  
Connor was beyond thought now. His body operated without instruction, diving for the sharp branch of wood and leaping toward the prone woman. The advantage was his now and he straddled her, pressing down on her shoulder with one hand and drawing his arm back and without hesitation driving the makeshift stake home into the vampire's breast.  
  
Her face registered shock just before she disintegrated into dust, leaving him holding nothing but ash instead of a handful of her gown. Connor sat back on his heels, wide eyed and panting with exertion. He continued to stare at the place where the woman had been, as her ashes blew away and mingled with the sand, then he looked up and down the beach. He wished there had been someone to witness the fight and to confirm that he was not hallucinating, but the seashore was empty.  
  
Connor slowly rose to his feet. He rubbed one hand across his neck and it came away smeared in blood. He looked at the piece of wood still clenched in his fist and had to will his fingers to slowly, stiffly uncurl and drop it.  
  
Looking down the beach again then out at the water then up to the brightly lit houses on the bluff, Connor felt like he was in a little bubble of reality all his own. Everything he had known in his life up to this point felt surreal, like an extended dream. An incomprehensible shift in reality had occurred. He now knew that monsters really did exist and nothing would ever be the same again.  
  
Either that or he would sweep this bizarre incident so deeply into the subchambers of his mind that he would eventually forget that it had ever happened. Yeah, that sounded pretty good.  
  
Connor walked back the way he had come, still hugging the edge of the water. He stopped to pick up his abandoned shoes and then started up the path to the noise and confusion of Benner's party.  
  
To be continued.... 


	2. 2

To all who've waited patiently for the rest of my Connor/Dawn story, thank you so much for your continued interest. I've lost my own interest and momentum, getting seriously sidetracked into some OC fic I've been writing, but I will attempt to keep coming back to this story bit by bit until it's finished.  
  
"Dawn In L.A." – chapter 2  
  
Time was running out. More of the Slayers had dispersed to their homes and Buffy was starting to make serious plans for flying to England, which at one time would have been as exciting to Dawn as Christmas but now filled her with dread. Having your home get sucked into the bowels of the earth tended to drain your desire to travel. Besides Dawn was on a mission to locate Connor, which had become a single-minded obsession for her. Maybe it was because it distracted her from thinking about the other missing people in her life, people who could never be reclaimed, like Mom, Tara, Anya and Spike.  
  
Angel had stonewalled Dawn for weeks, refusing to divulge the location of his son beyond the fact that he was somewhere in California, despite her entreaties and tantrums. She couldn't cajole or bully the information out of him and he was the only one who knew. But a few days ago Dawn had suddenly had a brainstorm. She had often seen Tara or Willow use locator spells and Dawn knew which book contained the spell. How hard could performing it really be? It was like following a recipe or a chemistry lab assignment, and Dawn was a wiz at both.  
  
So she had nicked the book and assembled all the ingredients, including a map of California and a personal item from Connor to aid in the location. She was using the knife he had given her on her birthday last year; the knife modified by Holtz to fit the hand of his foster son when Connor was a little boy. The weapon must be infused with the essence of Connor after all those years of use.  
  
She set the knife carefully on the floor just inside the circle she had drawn, which encompassed the map. She referred back to the book as she lit candles, sprinkled herbs and chanted the passages carefully. Dawn felt her hair begin to crackle with static electricity as energy gathered in the air around her. As she felt the magic actually begin to work, she was both elated and extremely nervous.  
  
A diffuse light began to glow around the knife, and then a concentrated red light, like the beam from a laser pointer rose from the weapon and began circling the map slowly. It hovered and then came to rest at a particular point. Dawn leaned over and read the name of the town before the light blinked out.  
  
Pleasantville. The name couldn't have been more ironic. You just had to love the sense of humor of the Powers.  
  
Dawn blew out the candles, folded the map and swept up the ground herbs as she planned her next move - commandeering a vehicle for the drive up the coast.

* * *

"Mom! I told you I don't care what shade of blue. Let's just pick something and get out of here," Connor said.  
  
It wasn't his idea to go shopping for bedding and other stuff for his dorm room, but obviously his mom was in need of some bonding so he agreed and had been trailing her around the mall for the past two hours. Mom seemed to think he needed more shirts as well, because after the sheets and comforter were purchased she had begun dragging him into clothing stores. The key word was "after," so Connor was schlepping the awkwardly large bags all over the mall.  
  
"What about this one?" she asked, holding up a blue button down that looked to him exactly like the last three she had showed him. "You want to try this one on?"  
  
"I don't need to try it on. I'm sure it'll be fine." Then, aware of how snappish and ungrateful he must sound, he added, "Thanks. You know, I really don't need any more clothes. I have everything I...."  
  
"I know," she interrupted. "But you have to start out the school year with a couple of new things too."  
  
"Mom, it's not kindergarten. And if I want something I can buy it myself. I have a job now, you know."  
  
She pierced him with a 'don't argue' stare.  
  
"All right. One shirt," he agreed with a sigh.  
  
She smiled. "And another pair of shoes. Your tennis shoes are a wreck. We'll just stop at The Finish Line, then we can go home."  
  
Connor rolled his eyes and returned her smile. Mom on a shopping mission was not to be denied.  
  
He stood with the bags of previous purchases hanging from either hand, while she carried the blue Oxford and a couple of other sports shirts to the sales counter. He lounged in the archway of the store, staring out at the passing people in the mall. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of her again, that familiar looking girl with the long brown hair.  
  
He frowned and straightened, moving to the right to get a better view of her. She was half hidden by a potted fern and he could've sworn she had been watching him. Considering that this was the fourth time he'd caught sight of her in the mall today and the third time they had made eye contact, he didn't think he was paranoid to believe she was following him.  
  
Connor glanced back at his mom, who was still at the cash register, and then he started to walk toward the column behind which the brown-haired girl had disappeared. He passed the fern and rounded the pillar and there she was, leaning against it, looking away from him.  
  
"Hello?" he said tentatively.  
  
The girl jumped and spun to face him, wide-eyed and gasping. "Jeez!"  
  
"Sorry." He smiled. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just thought.... Were you...?" He could hardly ask her if she had been following him without sounding crazy. "I mean, do we know each other?"  
  
She shrugged quickly. "I – I don't know. I don't think so," she said hurriedly, her eyes darting this way and that as though looking for an escape. "I was just...." She gestured toward the row of shops. "I'm shopping. For, uh, shoes. I need shoes," she explained, and then she quitlooking around and faced him with a frown. "Is there a problem with that?"  
  
"No," he said in a placating tone, wondering if he should back away slowly from this very weird girl.  
  
"Connor! There you are." His mom's voice made the girl startle like a frightened deer. She looked toward Connor's mom and then at him. For just a moment their eyes met and he felt a weird sense of deja vu looking into her wide hazel eyes.  
  
"Connor," the girl murmured under her breath.  
  
"Yeah. What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Oh! Uh...."  
  
"Hello." Mom approached, laden with another shopping bag. Her eyes were curious as she regarded him talking to the strange girl. She knew pretty much everyone from his regular crowd at school. "I don't believe I've met you before. I'm Mrs. Brady." She held out her hand to the girl before Connor had time to explain that he didn't know the girl either.  
  
"I – I'm Dawn," she replied, taking his mom's hand. "Pleased to meet you."  
  
Okay. This was getting more surreal by the second. A strange girl he had barely spoken to, who may or may not have been stalking him, was now shaking hands with his mom and looking at her with an intense, almost searching stare. Connor decided to end it.  
  
"Well, it was nice running into you ... Dawn. But we still have some shopping to do, so...."  
  
"Oh yeah. Me too," the girl replied, pointing vaguely at one of the shops. "The – the shoes." She snuck another of those quick, furtive glances at Connor and he frowned as their eyes met and that odd sense of familiarity hit him again. He did know this girl. He was sure of it.  
  
"Really? We're shoes shopping too," Mom was saying.  
  
"Hah. Coincidence," Dawn said, smiling nervously and backing away. "Weird."  
  
You're weird all right, Connor thought, watching her awkward exit.  
  
"Well, um, goodbye. Nice ... seeing you," she said, turning and bumping into the edge of a bench and tripping. She pointed at it as she regained her balance, her face flushing bright red. "Bench." Then she turned and fled, merging into the crowd.  
  
"What an odd girl? Very nervous. Where do you know her from?"  
  
Connor didn't want to go through the strange explanation that he didn't know her at all, had indeed only just met her, so instead he said, "Work. She comes to Mr. Freeze for ice cream sometimes." He looked at his watch, the bag-o-bedding banging against his thigh as he lifted his hand. "Speaking of which, we really don't have time to look at shoes, mom. I have to get home and change before I go in."  
  
"All right, you little weasel. But before you leave next month we ARE going shopping again."  
  
Connor threw his head back and let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. My mother the shopaholic."  
  
He followed her to the escalator, stopping every several yards as she looked in another display window. Neither of them saw Dawn emerge from the CD Warehouse and keep pace with them at a discreet distance.

* * *

By the time Dawn got out to her car and tried to fit the key into the ignition, her hand was shaking so badly it took her three tries. Her breath was coming in hitching gasps and tears blinded her.  
  
"Come on. Get a grip," she mumbled, finally inserting the key. She looked up to see Connor and his mother loading bags into the trunk of their car. "You've dealt with weirder stuff than this every day of your life for the past three years." She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes and sniffed loudly.  
  
Sitting back, she rested her head on the seat and her hands on the steering wheel and took a few calming breaths as she watched Connor disappear into the interior of the family car. Family. Connor had a family. A real family with a dad, a mom who shopped and, from what Angel said, a pair of sisters. Weren't they real even if their minds had been altered to accept Connor into their circle? As real a family as Buffy was to her?  
  
Connor looked so relaxed and ... normal and ... happy, an expression Dawn hadn't seen on his face in the whole time he had stayed with them in Sunnydale. What right did she have to take the chance of messing up his perfect, new life by possibly starting a chain reaction of memory? She should go back to L.A. right now. Go to England with Buffy when their passports were ready and start her own new life. Leave Connor to his.  
  
But when the white Ford Explorer pulled out of the parking lot and headed onto the highway, Dawn was right behind it, cutting off a sedan as she pulled into traffic.

* * *

"Hi. Can I help you?" Connor looked up at the next customer. "You!" He frowned.  
  
"Sorry. I know it seems like I'm stalking you or something, but really I just came here for the ice cream." When he looked doubtful, Dawn added, "Really."  
  
She looked up at the menu. "I'll have a banana boat sundae with vanilla ice cream for all three scoops and chocolate, butterscotch and strawberry syrup. No nuts. Extra whipped cream, please, and three cherries instead of one. Oh, and chocolate sprinkles too."  
  
She gazed at him with innocent, ice cream loving eyes and Connor smiled. "Okay. No nuts. Got it." It was actually kind of flattering, if creepy, that she was following him. As he prepared her sundae, he talked to her over his shoulder.  
  
"So, are you new here in Pleasantville?" he asked. "I've never seen you at school so...."  
  
"Yeah. We just moved from L.A. Well, actually, some of my family still lives in L.A. and I'm going back and forth right now. I'm only here part of the time."  
  
"Will you be starting school here in fall?"  
  
"What makes you think I'm still in high school?" she asked.  
  
He gave her an 'are you kidding' look.  
  
"All right, I'm just a junior," she conceded. "What about you?" she responded.  
  
"Just graduated. I'm going to USC starting next month."  
  
"Oh. That's good. Um. What are you studying?"  
  
"History, for now. I'm interested in archeology too. Ancient weapons particularly."  
  
"Weapons, huh." Dawn was smiling.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
He gave her another curious frown as he finished garnishing her sundae with three cherries and sprinkles. "You know. You look really familiar to me. Are you sure we haven't met somewhere?"  
  
"Oh, I get that all the time. 'You look like my cousin' or my best friend's sister or whatever. I guess I just have one of those average faces."  
  
"Not really," Connor said with a flirtatious smile. "Not average at all."  
  
Dawn blushed and busied herself pulling napkins from the dispenser.  
  
"Look, I'll be off work by ten tonight. If you haven't got anything else to do, you could meet me here and we could ... go out for coffee or something." Connor couldn't believe the words even as they were coming out of his mouth. Not only was the girl too young for him but he was going to be leaving after next month. Also, there was the fact that she was kind of stalkery and strange. But somehow he wanted to talk to her more, without interruption, and try to figure out why that feeling of deja vu persisted.  
  
"I....I should...." She stopped. "I suppose I could. My, uh, dad was expecting me back in L.A. this evening but I guess I could ... stay with mom tonight and go back tomorrow. Sure, I'll meet you here later."  
  
"Great."  
  
A family with six little kids in bathing suits was piling out of their station wagon. Dawn stepped away from the serving window.  
  
"All right then. I'll see you at ten."

* * *

"Buffy.... Buffy.... Buffy...." Dawn tried to interrupt but her sister was on a rant. She held the phone away from her ear, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot. After a few seconds she put her ear to the receiver again. "Are you finished? Good. Now let me talk for a change. I'm okay. I'll be fine and I won't be home until tomorrow. Don't worry about me." Before Buffy could say another word, Dawn hung up.  
  
She shifted on the bench and looked around the park that was the center of Pleasantville and at the quaint, old-fashioned storefronts that bordered it. This had to be one of the cleanest, prettiest little towns anywhere in America, and that clued Dawn in right away that there must be something wrong with it. In her experience anything that looked too good to be true usually was.  
  
She wondered how she was going to kill time until her 'date' with Connor and then she wondered about the expression 'kill time' for a while. What a hideous concept. Dawn didn't think she wanted to kill anything again in her life if she could help it. After all that time hounding Buffy to train her and let her participate in the vampire and demon slaying, Dawn had finally come to realize that she was much happier as a researcher than a hands on member of the team.  
  
Rising from the bench, Dawn walked one of the pathways through the park, admiring the fountain at its heart and the happy people enjoying a hot summer evening. A pair of rollerblading little girls screamed out a ''scuse me!' as they sped past her down the path. More children were laughing, yelling, climbing, swinging and sliding in the playground area. A young couple was making out, stretched full length on a blanket by some bushes, totally oblivious of her passing. Dawn smiled and blushed a little as she stole a glimpse at them.  
  
A family was setting up a late meal at one of the picnic tables. The smell of grilling meat cramped Dawn's stomach and she thought that maybe an ice cream sundae wasn't enough dinner. As she watched the family interact; the dad intent on his grill, the mom trying to break up an argument between two younger kids while the teenager sprawled at the picnic table affecting an air of supreme boredom at being forced into a family outing, Dawn was hit by a pang of a different kind.  
  
Family. Her unorthodox family circle had fractured over the past year and looked like it would be splintering further in the days to come. After losing mom and then Buffy, Dawn had become intrinsically linked to Giles, Willow, Tara, Xander, Spike and even Anya. They had become her family more than her absent father ever could have even if he'd shown enough interest to come and claim her.  
  
But Giles had left, and Buffy returned. Spike had disappeared from Dawn's life long before he actually left Sunnydale, and then Tara was stolen from all of them by that murderer, Warren, and Willow was shipped off to Devon for recovery.  
  
Fast forward a year and the hits just kept on coming. Dawn felt like she lost Tara all over again when she had to watch Kennedy infiltrate Willow's life. She really kind of hated Kennedy with her smart mouth and cocksure attitude. And Dawn could see Willow slipping further away every day now in the Sunnydale aftermath. Willow and Kennedy had announced that they would be taking a trip to see Kennedy's parents on the East coast and then probably jet off to a vacation in Italy while they decided what they wanted to do next in their lives.  
  
Giles had already left for England again, to organize the remnants of the Council into some new form that could facilitate the hundreds of Slayers now walking the earth. Buffy intended to move there with Dawn and help him in the work but was still seeing off the last of the injured Slayers to their respective homes. Evidently Dawn didn't have a say in the matter and would be towed along in Buffy's wake.  
  
With Anya dead and his hometown sucked into the earth, Xander seemed rudderless and spent most days looking for repair jobs that needed doing at the hotel. Angel had offered to create some type of a position for him at Wolfram and Hart but Xander refused. He hated L.A. but didn't know where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. Dawn got the feeling he would probably drift along with her and Buffy for lack of any plan of his own.  
  
And the last member of Dawn's pseudo-family, Spike, was also dead, although he had actually been dead to her for quite a while now. It hurt to think of how close they had become during the Summer Without Buffy when he was her protector and confidante and how their relationship had so quickly slipped away after Buffy's return.  
  
Dawn smiled wistfully as she continued to watch the family in the park; dad was announcing that the burgers were ready, mom was getting the rest of the food laid out on the table, the little kids were squabbling again as they jockeyed for position as far from the dropping of bird doo on the picnic bench as they could possibly get, and the teen continued to lounge. Dawn felt like smacking that jaded teenager upside the head and telling her that she should appreciate every second of this family time because it could be stolen away quicker than the blink of an eye.  
  
She walked on, looking for a place to find a bite to eat while she waited for her meeting with Conner.  
  
To be continued....  
  
I intended to tell a larger chunk of the story but figured I'd better just get this thing up so people would know I haven't completely abandoned the project. Hope there are still readers out there. 


	3. 3

"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 3  
  
Hey gang, thanks for your very kind reviews and extreme patience. I'm still having some trouble with the plotting so on this chapter I kind of let it take its own form. It's amazing how a fic can choose its own direction as stuff starts spewing out of the character's mouths and sometimes it twists and turns in ways you didn't anticipate.

* * *

Dawn sat across the table from Connor sipping her decaf mocha latte and watching his animated face as he enthused about soccer and his hopes for college life. He was so different from the melancholy boy who had visited last summer that she felt she didn't know him at all. It was amazing what a well-adjusted suburban life could do to change a person's disposition. She thought he was a lot more attractive with the sparkling eyes and easy grin than he had ever been in brooding mode. Plus a year's growth and muscle development had certainly added to the new and improved hunkier Connor package.  
  
Yet, every now and then, when he frowned as he considered how to phrase something or concentrated on stirring just the right amount of sugar into his coffee, Dawn caught a glimpse of that familiar scowl. It sent a pang of regret and loss through her, and simultaneously made her feel guilty for playing Russian roulette with his memories by showing up in his new life.  
  
"I've been talking for, like, the last half hour. You must be bored to death," he said. "Tell me more about yourself."  
  
"What do you want to know?" she asked, mind scrambling as she tried to assemble the details of the backstory she had spun for herself.  
  
"I don't know," he shrugged. "What do you like to do? You know, for fun? Any hobbies, sports, skills? What is Dawn Summers all about?"  
  
Dawn racked her brain. It had been so long since she'd had time to have fun that she couldn't remember what she used to do and so she answered honestly. "Research. I know. It sounds ridiculously lame and nerdy, but I've really gotten into learning, uh, dead languages and deciphering ancient scrolls lately."  
  
Connor looked taken aback. "Oh." He quickly recovered and offered a grin. "Just 'for fun' eh? Looks like you've got it all, brains AND beauty."  
  
Dawn blushed at the compliment and laughed inside at what a player this alterna-Connor was. He favored her with a seductive look, eyes telegraphing his interest, tongue darting out to lick coffee from his stirring spoon. She couldn't think of a response and knew the kind of embarrassing crap that spilled from her mouth when she tried to wing it, so she kept silent.  
  
"You know," Connor continued, dropping the flirtatious front and speaking seriously. "I don't know what it is about your face, but I feel so sure that I've met you before somewhere. And not because you look like my cousin's uncle's best friend either." He stared at her intently and Dawn squirmed.  
  
She shrugged. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. I've never been here before. It's a cute town though," she added lamely, trying to change the subject. "Very ... clean."  
  
"Translation - 'bland'," he said. "That's what I always thought, too." Connor frowned, thoughtfully and Dawn wondered what that meant. He shrugged and shook his head as though dismissing a memory.  
  
"What?" Dawn asked, her interest piqued. "What happened?"  
  
He looked up sharply. "Nothing."  
  
Their eyes locked for a moment and Dawn could've sworn that there was some kind of secret message flying back and forth between them, which she couldn't decode. She instinctively knew that whatever she said next would mean the difference between casual conversation followed by a polite 'goodbye' and ... something more.  
  
She paused, biting her bottom lip. "Did you see... Has something...." She sighed at her inability to express herself. "What I mean is, do you believe in ... things outside of what is generally considered 'normal'?"  
  
"What? Like, sixth sense or alien abductions?" Connor teased. But despite his light tone, she read something eager in his voice.  
  
"Yeah. Something like that."  
  
Connor shrugged again. He looked around the crowded cafe, examining the other customers, the artwork on the walls, the furniture, the jukebox, before finally bringing his gaze back to her. His voice lowered confidentially. "If I tell you something ... really weird ... that happened to me a couple of weeks ago, do you promise not to back away slowly and run for help?"  
  
Dawn nodded, leaning forward slightly.  
  
He looked around again and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "God, I can't believe I'm telling you this. You're going to think I'm...."  
  
"Don't worry about it," she interrupted. "I'm very open minded and I've seen some things in my life that you wouldn't believe." To reassure him further she added quickly, "I told you I was from L.A. but before that I lived in Sunnydale." At his surprised look she said, "You've heard about it."  
  
"Yeah. Who hasn't? The whole town went down in a sinkhole." He looked shocked. "You survived that?"  
  
She nodded again. "So, anything you tell me won't make me blink an eye, trust me."  
  
He nodded and drew a deep breath. "Okay. Well, a few weeks ago I was at a party at a friend's house. I took a walk on the beach by myself and there ... there was this girl on the beach. I talked to her for a little while and then we," he paused, blushing, "we kissed and then...." He trailed off, shaking his head and tapping his spoon on the table. "I can't even say it out loud. It's just too bizarre."  
  
Dawn barely considered for a half second before she blurted out, "She tried to bite you?"  
  
Connor's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "How did ... how could you know?"  
  
"And maybe her face changed," Dawn continued, raising a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"Yes!" Connor drew it out with a sibilant ess, and she could hear the relief in his voice at finally sharing his experience with someone. "I didn't think...." He shook his head again, at a loss for words.  
  
"Vampire," Dawn announced calmly. "Like they say about aliens, 'We are not alone.'"  
  
Connor frowned, blinked his eyes, and looked around the crowded cafe again as if trying to anchor himself to reality. Finally he gathered his composure enough to form a question. "So you've had ... experience with this kind of thing?"  
  
"You could say that." Dawn suddenly burst out laughing uncontrollably. She laughed until tears ran down her face and she had to gasp for breath, while Connor and pretty much everyone in the cafe stared at her. "I-I'm sorry," she choked out, wiping her tears away and fanning her face with one hand. Her laughter subsided to an occasional snort as she tried to explain herself. "I've had a very ... unusual life. And what you said was kind of like the understatement of the year."  
  
"You've seen these, um, beings?" Connor lowered his voice. "Like up close and personal?"  
  
"Yes," Dawn confirmed. "It's all right, you can say 'vampires' without feeling like a dork. They do exist. So do various types of demons and a bunch of other monsters."  
  
"How am I...? What am I supposed to do with this?" Connor asked, spreading his hands helplessly. "This is so surreal."  
  
"I know, believe me," she assured. "You think you know what the world is like and then suddenly it gets turned upside down ... numerous times. I can tell you right now that you're better off accepting it and expecting things to get shaken up and rearranged again and again. Then you're not so shocked when it happens."  
  
Connor frowned and stirred his spoon around his cup through the dregs of his coffee. "That Sunnydale disaster," he said finally, "it wasn't a sinkhole, was it?"  
  
"No." Dawn was amazed by how relieved she was to be able to say it. Even though everyone in her immediate circle of friends already knew, it felt liberating to share the truth with an outsider.  
  
"What really happened?" Connor asked curiously.  
  
"Long story. Believe me you don't want to hear it all. The short version is that there was a huge battle and apocalypse was averted."  
  
He nodded then asked, "So what are you? Some kind of Supergirl?"  
  
"Naw. My sister is. There's a whole sort of team and I'm mostly on research duty. They trust me with the laptop."  
  
"Wow." Connor subsided into silence, and Dawn began second guessing herself almost immediately. What had possessed her to tell him all this? She was seriously playing with fire, first by showing up here and then by informing him all about the evil side of the world – the part from which Angel had tried to save him. But she couldn't seem to stop herself. She felt almost compelled to shake Connor out of complacency and offer him the truth.  
  
"Look, I have so many questions, but I, uh, need some time to process this," Connor said after a moment. "Can we... can we get out of here? Take a walk or a drive to the beach? I feel like I need to ... to just move."  
  
Dawn nodded. "Sure." She had a sudden thought. "Do you, uh, want to be alone? Cause I could go back to my... motel room and...."  
  
"Motel room? I thought you said you moved here."  
  
"Well, that wasn't strictly true," Dawn hedged. "I still pretty much live in L.A."  
  
"Why are you here then?" Connor sounded confused. Suddenly his eyes widened in the classic 'light bulb over the head' moment of understanding. "You knew about me before you came here. You came to find me!"  
  
"Uh...." She shifted in her seat and looked intently at the empty sugar packets littering the table.  
  
Connor let out a harsh bark of laughter. "So, is this the part where you tell me I have a destiny to fulfill and hand me the cape and tights?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"You didn't ask me how I got away," he explained. "From the ... the creature. I mean, you have to assume that if I'm sitting here I got away ... or that I was turned into one too."  
  
"Well, duh, I've seen you out in the daylight so...." Dawn shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.  
  
"Ask me how I got away." She could feel Connor staring at her intensely.  
  
"Outrageous strength and a stake?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
"I've never hit anyone so hard in my life," Connor said, almost to himself. "Actually, I've never hit anyone at all. But I punched that woman once and knocked her yards away and then I found myself doing all this gymnastic stuff I never... I mean, I play soccer! I've never had a tae kwon do class in my life. And then it was like instinct took over and I knew exactly what I had to do. Found a piece of driftwood and drove it into her chest." Dawn looked up finally and their eyes locked. "That's just not normal," Connor said.  
  
When Dawn didn't respond, he continued, "I've been thinking about it ever since. Or actually, trying NOT to think about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened and go back to my regularly scheduled life, but...." His gaze was becoming so intense, Dawn felt as hot as if she'd been in a tanning bed too long. "It felt so ... RIGHT. Like I finally knew what I was supposed to do, you know?"  
  
She nodded mutely.  
  
"I've been thinking all summer about college and what classes I should take, what I want to study, what I want to become," he shook his head, "but when I was fighting that ... thing, I finally felt like I'd found my ... my purpose. For the first time I felt complete." His eyes narrowed as he frowned deeply. "God, what does that say about me? I'm a killer?"  
  
"It's not the same," Dawn assured him. She put her hand on his forearm, which was resting on the table. "I mean, yeah it is killing, but there's justice behind it. You're fighting for Good."  
  
"But ... am I supposed to enjoy it so much?" Connor asked, searching her eyes.  
  
"You'd have to ask my sister that one. Researcher here, remember?" she said with a gentle smile.  
  
There was another brief silence then Dawn asked, "You want to take that walk now?"  
  
They left the cafe and crossed the street to the park. A hint of sunset was still blushing the sky in the west while the moon shone above them almost as bright as day. It wasn't quite a full moon. Dawn was always aware of the status of the moon's cycle knowing how it affected paranormal activity.  
  
She felt that she was beginning to know this park like her own backyard, if she had had a backyard anymore. She had spent enough time here today.  
  
Connor pointed out a weatherbeaten bronze statue in the center of the park. "The founder of the town," he explained. "He's no Jebediah Springfield, just a businessman who invested in a lot of land and built quaint little town that made him obscenely wealthy."  
  
"It is a perfect place," Dawn admitted, "but a little Stepford for my taste."  
  
He smiled. They walked a while in silence, hands swinging by their sides and accidentally brushing together at one point. Connor frowned at the contact. "Why is this so familiar?" He looked at her from the corners of his eyes.  
  
Dawn shrugged slightly and kept walking.  
  
"You want to tell me the rest now?" he demanded.  
  
"The ... what?"  
  
"We didn't finish our conversation. Why were you looking for me? Why do I feel like I already know you? Why was I not all that surprised by everything you told me?"  
  
Dawn pursed her lips, cleared her throat, took a deep breath and began. "Okay. You know 'Back to the Future'?"  
  
He nodded, "Of course."  
  
"Well, you know in number two how there were, like, two versions of reality because Marty had screwed up the space time continuum? So there was the regular, happy, normal version of his life and then that alternate world where Biff was a crime lord or something and everything was in chaos? Did you ever wonder what happened to the Marty who had lived through the wrong version? Or what happened to the wrong version after Marty corrected it? It couldn't just disappear. It existed. It had been created and had to go on somewhere in the cosmos don't you think?"  
  
"I suppose." Connor jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders a bit as he walked. "I don't think I like where this is going."  
  
"Well actually," Dawn said, frowning, "it's a crappy analogy and it doesn't really apply at all. Let me start again. Say you were a father and you found your son after he had been kidnapped, but the kidnapper had really warped your child and raised him in a ... really bad environment, and then no matter who much you tried to make things better for the kid they just got worse, until the kid was depressed and practically suicidal. Then suppose you were given a chance to fix it, to create a life, a perfect life with a wonderful, caring family and all new memories for that child? Would you do it?"  
  
"No," Connor answered promptly. "It would be a lie. Like Schwartzenegar in 'Total Recall'. The truth is always better even if it's painful."  
  
He stopped walking and so did Dawn. He stared at her, mouth slightly open. "No," he said. "No way."  
  
Dawn nodded, offering him a rueful smile. "Way."  
  
"I don't believe it," Connor snapped, his trademark glower settling over his face like a mantle of darkness. "That's bullshit."  
  
He looked exactly like the angry boy she had met last summer and realization of what she was doing suddenly broke over Dawn. What had possessed her to think she had any right, any business messing around with Connor's manufactured life? Since she had begun talking to him this evening it was like she was possessed or under a truth spell. She couldn't NOT tell him. The words bubbled from her like she was some horrible truthtelling fountain.  
  
"I'm sorry," she practically whispered.  
  
"It's bullshit!" he repeated more vehemently. "Alternate universes? Made up memories? I don't believe any of it."  
  
"I know," Dawn said sympathetically. "I mean, I really know." And she did. Exactly. She could empathize with everything he was feeling having gone through it herself, but to try to relate her similar circumstance on top of everything else was just too much to explain. She subsided into silence.  
  
Connor started pacing a little, his hands out of his pockets now and fisted at either side of his body. "So, you're trying to tell me that my whole life is a fake? That my family isn't my family? And that YOU know all about my quote, unquote 'real' past?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Bullshit!" he thundered again. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, eyes narrowed in anger. "Why are you doing this? Who are you really and why are you here? What do you want?"  
  
"I don't know," Dawn's voice trembled slightly and she was embarrassed to realize that her eyes were filling with tears. Damn womanly hormones that made you cry the moment you were pissed or upset! "I don't know why I'm telling you or what I expect you to do about it. I should have just left you alone. It was probably a big mistake."  
  
"Damn right," he replied. "And all the rest of it, the ... the vampires and demons and superheroes. All bullshit. I don't know what I was thinking to.... It's not real. None of it. It can't be!"  
  
He backed away from her. "I'm going home now, and I don't want to see you again. I don't want you to follow me or stake out my house or whatever else you've been doing. Just leave me alone. Get out of Pleasantville and don't come back!"  
  
He began to stalk away from her when suddenly from the bushes on his right a huge, scaly figure with spines down the ridge of its back lunged at him.  
  
To be continued....  
  
A shorty chapter, yes. But I thought if I posted more often I could get back in the swing of this again. I definitely know what the end of this story will be but not exactly how I'm reaching it. Gentle readers, you're welcome to throw out any plot ideas or hopes and wishes you may have and if they resonate with me, I may use them in the story. Having fresh ideas may help jump start my sleepy muse. 


	4. 4

"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 4  
  
"Connor, look out!" Dawn shrieked far too late as the prehistoric looking creature knocked him off his feet and landed on top of him. She stood and watched in ineffectual horror as Connor struggled to throw the monster off. Then, amazingly, with an up thrust of both hands into its chest, he did manage to toss the thing away from him in a graceful arch. It landed at Dawn's feet and she stared stupidly down at the monster for a second, long enough to get a snootful of the rancid breath gusting from its panting mouth, before reclaiming her senses and scrambling backward.  
  
The creature rotated its heavy, spiny head toward her movement. Dawn knew that it had recognized her as easier prey and that when it regained its feet it would charge her. She quickly scrabbled through her purse for weapons. Her searching fingers passed over the stake, which would be useless on an armor-plated creature like this, and closed around her pepper spray. As the monster lumbered to its feet, she darted in and spritzed pepper into its lizard-like eyes. The thing roared and fell to its knees, swiping with front claws at its face. Dawn hoped it would poke its own eyes out.  
  
She reached in her bag again and this time her fist closed around the leather wrapped shaft of Connor's knife. She pulled it out just as Connor came running over brandishing a slat he had ripped from a park bench, the only weapon he could locate on short notice.  
  
"Here!" she cried, tossing him the blade.  
  
He caught it gracefully and moved in to slash at the monster's throat, which was exposed because it was still busy clawing at its face. As Connor's blade impaled the soft spot under the creature's jaw, it let out another wail of pain and purplish blood gushed out, wetting Connor's hand and arm.  
  
"You can't kill it that way," Dawn called. "Only wound it. Go for the heart."  
  
Connor pulled out the blade with difficulty and a sickening sucking sound of tissues rending. He drove the blade back in a foot farther down where he estimated a heart should be, but only hit bone. The impact of metal hitting impervious surface reverberated up his arm.  
  
"It's a Dracon. The heart's where the stomach should be. Try another couple of feet lower and kind of to the right," Dawn explained, dancing from one foot to the other in her excitement. She was ready to swoop back in with another dose of pepper spray the moment the thing seemed to be recovering.  
  
Connor grunted and pulled back to drive in his knife a third and last time. He hit paydirt because, after emitting another geyser of blood, which drenched Connor's shirt front, the monster wailed one last time, thrashed around then lay still. Connor pulled the knife from its body once more and wiped the blade off carefully in the thick grass. He was on his knees panting, his sweaty hair sticking up wildly, blood coating his hand, arm and chest and spattered in an artistic pattern across his face.  
  
"God that felt good," he breathed in exhilaration, looking up at Dawn with a warrior's fierce grin, which abruptly disappeared as he asked, "Is that wrong?"  
  
"No," Dawn assured him. "It's adrenalin. As long as you don't get a rush from running around killing humans, I think you're okay."  
  
Connor examined the knife in his hand. "This feels so ... familiar."  
  
"It should. It's yours," she told him. She watched as he hefted the knife, feeling its weight in his hand.  
  
He looked at her again. "I think there's some stuff you'd better tell me," he finally admitted.  
  
She nodded. "If you want to come with me to my motel room and get cleaned up, it'll probably save your mother having a heart attack. We can talk there." She held out a hand and he took it, letting her draw him to his feet.  
  
Dawn had chosen the cheapest and consequently tackiest motel in town. They drove in Dawn's car, which was actually 'borrowed' from Angel's fleet at W&H and Dawn was still amazed that no one in the building had questioned her when she took it. They stopped by a General Dollar store on the way so Connor could buy a clean shirt. Dawn ran in since Connor looked like the victim of a fatal accident, and grabbed the first T-shirt she saw, which happened to proclaim "Truckers Do It On the Road" above the leering face of a driver waving from the window of a semi.  
  
"Thanks," Connor said dryly, when he saw the sentiment emblazoned on the front of the shirt. "Always wanted one like this."  
  
Dawn grinned. "It's so you."  
  
She had paid for her motel room earlier that evening while waiting for Connor to get off work, so they didn't have to bother with check in. Dawn parked in front of the door of her room and soon they were inside.  
  
Connor went straight to the bathroom to strip off his ruined shirt and wash up. Dawn listened to the water run and was ridiculously aware of the fact that he was shirtless behind that door. She told her brain to shut up about it. However, she couldn't help but think about how Connor seemed to have bulked out since she had seen him last. He was still kind of lean and sinewy but with better defined muscles. And she wondered what his arms and chest and torso looked like naked. After all, it was a girl's prerogative to visualize.  
  
Nevertheless, when Connor emerged suddenly from the bathroom, still tugging down the trucker shirt and flinging damp hair from his eyes, Dawn jumped as if he'd caught her doing something naughty. "What? Uh," she babbled, quickly picking up the TV cable guide and studying it as though that's what she had been doing all along.  
  
"You're going to watch TV?" Connor asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"No." She put the laminated card down and lay the remote on top of it. "I was... um... thinking about ... how I'm going to tell you all this." She gathered her composure, "I was thinking that seeing is believing and it might be easier for you to just come to L.A. with me tomorrow and meet some people."  
  
Connor frowned, considering her words. "No way," he said, "you started this, you're not just going to leave me hanging. At least tell me the basics."  
  
Dawn perched on the edge of the bed, drawing her legs up beside her. "Okay." She stopped, pondering what was essential and what to leave out of her story. There was only so much his mind would be able to wrap around all at once. She elected to leave out the "Your parents are vampires" part of the story.  
  
"What all do you want to know," she asked.  
  
"Well, let's start easy," he replied. "How do you and I know each other?"  
  
"Us?" Dawn was surprised. "Oh, we're just friends ... I guess. I mean I barely know you. We met last summer when you stayed at my house." She elected to skip over their single evening of romance figuring it would only add another level of complexity. "And then your dad came and took you home."  
  
"Then why are you here?" Connor's frown deepened. He leaned against the built-in chest of drawers, arms folded, grilling her with his eyes. "If you hardly know me, why did they, whoever 'they' are, send you?"  
  
"They...? Send me? Nobody sent me. Actually, nobody knows I'm here," Dawn explained in a rush. "I just ... thought ... I thought...." She trailed off. What had she thought? The answer was, she hadn't. Every time that chastising voice of reason, which sounded remarkably like Giles in her head, had started to enumerate the list of possible repercussions of what she was doing, she had shut it down.  
  
"Why are you here?" he repeated.  
  
"I don't know," she answered lamely. She couldn't explain the compelling force that had driven her ever since she found out about Connor's mind wipe.  
  
He looked around the room, shaking his head impatiently. "You don't know," he mocked bitterly. "Well, that's just great. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't want to know any of this? That maybe I just wanted to live my normal life, as real or imaginary as it may be?"  
  
Dawn thought again of the day she had found out her own life was a sham. She had been shocked, furious, heartbroken, desperate, and she had repeatedly wished that it would all turn out to be a nightmare, that she could push the truth back into Pandora's box and go on living her own version of reality. "Yes. I get that," she told him quietly. "You have every right to be pissed at me, but.... Okay, it's like The Matrix, wouldn't you rather be like Neo and pick the blue pill?"  
  
"Neo chose the red pill," Connor corrected. "And can you please stop the movie analogies?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"Fine." Connor heaved a sigh and waved a hand in the air. "Bring it on. Tell me why my life's a lie and how this happened."  
  
"Okay," Dawn chose her words as carefully as a soldier walking through a minefield, "your dad is like my sister, kind of a superhero. When you were born, this man called Holtz kidnapped you and raised you in a demon dimension."  
  
"A what now?"  
  
"Like, um, hell. There's lots of different dimensions and this was just one of them. Anyway, you found a way out but you came back with a mission to kill your father, because that was what this Holtz guy had conditioned you to do."  
  
"It's a frigging Greek tragedy," Connor scoffed dismissively.  
  
"But true," Dawn told him. "It gets kind of complicated here but the short version is that you almost succeeded. Your relationship with your father is very ... intense. You forged a kind of truce but it unraveled over the past year. There was a woman involved who you both loved, I guess."  
  
"Why am I not surprised," he interjected, shaking his head in disbelief. His crossed arms clenched even tighter and every line of his body was drawn tight as a bow.  
  
"I don't really know all the details," she continued. "We were dealing with our own apocalypse in Sunnydale, while you guys were fighting yet another Ultimate Evil over in L.A."  
  
"Well, the world's still spinning. Must have been successful," Connor said dryly.  
  
"Yeah," Dawn agreed. She cleared her throat. "So, here's the hard part. I guess you had some kind of break down and got kind of, uh, suicidal and that's when Angel ... your father, made the deal with some powerful people to spare your life and give you a new one. A happy one."  
  
She studied Connor's tense face and could almost see words of denial hanging in the air over his head like a thought balloon in a comic strip. 'This is bullshit. Bullshit!!' But he remained silent. Contemplative.  
  
Finally he spoke. "But you're here to wake me up from my delusion. And why is that again?"  
  
Dawn shook her head in frustration. She jumped off the bed and began to pace. "Doesn't the fact that you've had two encounters with the paranormal in the past two weeks seem kind of coincidental to you? Maybe it's a sign. Maybe you're not meant to ... ignore your destiny and just hide out in Pleasantville. Maybe if you try to, your destiny will come after you anyway and you won't be prepared to deal with it."  
  
"You just make that up now?" he asked caustically.  
  
"It makes sense, doesn't it? You have things, important things to do in this world."  
  
"According to you."  
  
Dawn threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. "Maybe I'm totally wrong. Maybe I should have abided by Angel's decision, but it's kind of late now. I'm here. You know the truth, or some of it, and now you have to decide what you're going to do with it."  
  
Connor scowled, "Thanks."  
  
"Go ahead, add 'bitch.' I can hear you thinking it anyway," Dawn teased and surprised a smile out of Connor.  
  
He shifted his weight off the furniture and stood up. He ran both hands over his face and through his hair, blowing out a deep breath.  
  
"I know it's a lot to process," she said gently. "Believe me, I know. I've been through something similar but that's another long, confusing story. I'll tell you sometime."  
  
"Yeah?" he looked at her curiously.  
  
She changed the subject. "So do you want to come to L.A. with me tomorrow and meet Angel and my sister, Buffy, and the others?"  
  
"Your sister's named Buffy?" Connor half smiled.  
  
"I don't know what my mom was thinking," Dawn agreed. "Guess she was having a flashback to her sorority days when she named her." "My youngest sister, Meghan, made us all call her 'Barbie' for almost a year when she was ten," Connor reminisced. "She refused to answer to anything else and swore she was going to have her name legally changed when she was old enough." His grin faded abruptly. "But that never happened, did it?" he asked. "Or if it did, I wasn't really there to...."  
  
"Don't even start," Dawn warned. "You'll drive yourself crazy. The best thing you can do is to accept all your memories as real, both the ones from this life and the ones from your other life." She put a hand on his arm and advised, "Just ... don't think too hard about any of it."  
  
Connor looked down at her intently. "You're definitely going to have to share your 'similar experience,'" he informed her. "All right. I'll take the day off work tomorrow and make up an excuse for my parents, and then we'll go to L.A. and meet these people."  
  
Dawn nodded then a thought suddenly occurred to her. "Oh! I forgot to mention that everyone's memories of you have been erased except Angel's and those of us who are from Sunnydale. The mind wipe was supposed to have affected everyone except Angel and we haven't figure out yet why it didn't touch me and Buffy and Xander."  
  
"Xander?" he asked with a raised brow.  
  
"Yeah. We're just chockful of weird names. Buffy's other best friend is named Willow. And before they died, there was Anya and Spike ... and Tara."  
  
"It sounds like you've lost a lot of friends," Connor said with quiet sympathy.  
  
"More than what's fair," Dawn agreed. She shrugged sadly. "Casualties of war." Before she could begin to get all weepy, she changed the subject. "Anyway, the people from Angel's team who you'll meet but who won't remember you are Wesley, Fred and Gunn."  
  
"What about the woman?" Connor asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The one you said we both loved."  
  
"Oh, Cordelia." Dawn realized. "She's in a coma."  
  
"And how did that happen?" he asked.  
  
"More long story. Let's save it for tomorrow," she begged.  
  
Connor nodded, suddenly looking as completely drained as Dawn felt. There was a purplish bruise forming on his forehead from his battle with the Dracon and his skin was as sallow as Dawn remembered it being last year.  
  
"You look like you could use some rest," she added. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning."  
  
He agreed, holding out his hand to shake hers. "I can't really say it's been nice to meet you under the circumstances," he said with a wan smile. "But if anyone had to come and ruin my life, I'm glad it was you."  
  
"You're welcome, I guess," Dawn offered ironically. She suddenly realized that Connor's car was back at the coffee shop. "Let me give you a ride to your car."  
  
"No. It's not far. Besides, I want to walk for a while, to think about all of this," he said.  
  
Dawn nodded. She saw Connor to the door. "Don't get into any more fights on the way home," she admonished. "You don't want to rip your cool new T- shirt."  
  
He smiled as he glanced down at the novelty shirt then waved goodbye and turned to walk off into the night.  
  
To be continued.... 


	5. 5

"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 5  
  
Thanks reviewers. I appreciate all your feedback as I'm still struggling to turn out this story. Sometimes the fics come easily. This one doesn't. Your kind words give me the desire to keep on.

* * *

They entered the Hyperion from the rear door, the one that opened out onto the garden. Dawn had to park a block away and this was the nearest entrance to the hotel. Connor looked around at the lush plantings and shady nooks of the garden space and at the covered patio in front of the door. A slight movement in the deepest shadow beneath the awning caught his attention. Connor's eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw a large man in dark clothes rise to his feet from his seat on a bench. For just a moment their eyes caught and held, blue eyes to deep brown, exchanging some type of primal recognition, then the mood was broken as Dawn spoke.  
  
"Angel," she said brightly and nervously. "Hey."  
  
"Dawn." The man's tone was measured and low but with a harsh edge that bordered on murderous. "What have you done?"  
  
"I can explain," she began, but he spoke right over her.  
  
"What have you told him?" He glowered at the pair of them from under heavy, beetled brows, his mouth drawn into a grim, straight line.  
  
Connor didn't like being spoken about as if he weren't there and he opened his mouth to make a comment but suddenly found himself mute. The realization that this might be his real father, if everything Dawn had told him was actually true, slammed home with the intensity of a freight train. He found he could only gape like a wordless idiot.  
  
"Some stuff. Not everything," Dawn answered. "I thought it would be easier for him to believe if he saw you and...."  
  
Again Angel's voice cut like a whip crack. "You thought? Obviously you weren't thinking at all or you never would have interfered like this." He took another step toward them but stopped short of the sunlight. Connor studied his features minutely, waiting for a repeat of that tingle of recognition or for some repressed memory to stir within him, but nothing happened. No rush of familial affection awoke in Connor the way it did when he thought of his own father. This hulking man remained a stranger.  
  
Unsure of the appropriate manners for the situation, Connor relied on his upbringing. He stuck out his hand. "My name's Connor." Angel didn't step forward to take it but dipped his head in acknowledgement of the words.  
  
"I'm...." he hesitated, "Angel." There was a moment of awkward silence, which was broken by Angel's cell phone ringing. He quickly pulled it from an inside pocket. "Just a minute," he excused himself before answering. "Yeah?"  
  
The cryptic, one-sided conversation that followed was fascinating. "How long ago? Uh-huh. What's the body count? Did you send...? Good. What part of the city is going to be affected?" There was a long pause.  
  
Connor stole a glance at Dawn, who was shifting nervously from foot to foot but managed to give him an encouraging smile as she muttered, "He's always dealing with business stuff."  
  
"Look, Wes, if you can handle this one on your own I'd appreciate it," Angel said. "I'm kind of," he looked at Connor, "dealing with something here. Great. Keep me informed and I'll be in to help you as soon as possible." He snapped the phone shut without a goodbye. He gazed at Connor then glared at Dawn again. "Why don't you come in?" he suggested, turning and leading the way through the ornate door.  
  
As he crossed the threshold and took in the antique splendor of the Hyperion's lobby, Connor experienced another wave of displacement. This place looked familiar. Then didn't ... then did again. He frowned and concentrated as the sensation swept over him. He looked to the ornate front desk absolutely knowing that he would see a skinny, brown haired woman there, but instead a small blonde came barreling from the office behind the desk and flew toward them, yelling at the top of her voice.  
  
"Dawn, this is totally unacceptable! You can't just take off like that and think that it's all right. And then to call and TELL me you're going to be out all night! There are ... rules and, uh, curfews, and you are so grounded, young lady!"  
  
To Connor there was something comfortingly familiar about the sibling animosity that shook him from that awful feeling of surrealism. He totally understood bickering sisters. He heard them all the time at home.  
  
The petite woman halted in front of them and her stream of words stopped when she registered Connor trailing behind Dawn and Angel. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Dawn, what have you done!"  
  
Dawn's voice took on the immediate defensiveness of a younger sister. "Buffy, he had the right to know the truth! And it's a good thing I got there to talk to him because he's been having all sorts of vamps and demons attacking and no one to explain what they were." She spoke with a smug assurance she hadn't displayed once in her conversations with Connor. "I did the right thing," she insisted, crossing her arms and jutting out her jaw.  
  
"It wasn't your choice to make," Angel growled adopting a similar stance, as he stared Dawn down, eviscerating her with his eyes.  
  
Again Connor had the feeling of being simply a prop in their three-person play. The antagonism and accusation flying around the room created enough tension to power a city. "Uh, excuse me," he raised his hand to get their attention. "Do you have a restroom? It was a long drive and, uh...."  
  
Dawn, Angel and Buffy all turned to stare at him as if he were a pet dog, which had suddenly learned how to speak.  
  
"Of course," Buffy finally said. "Right over here." She led the way across the lobby, and Connor could hear Angel and Dawn behind him already fighting again in fierce whispered bursts. They didn't realize he had extraordinarily excellent hearing.  
  
"What did you tell him about me and Darla?" Angel asked.  
  
"Nothing. I left that part for you."  
  
"And what does he know about the spell? And about Cordelia and Jasmine?"  
  
"Parts of it. Look, the whole thing is kind of long and confusing for anyone to accept all at once. If you'll just calm down, I'll tell you everything that I told him and then you can figure out how to explain the rest," Dawn hissed.  
  
"I can't believe you did this," was the last thing Connor heard before he entered the bathroom. He leaned on the sink and stared into the mirror for a long moment trying to figure out who the person he saw really was. He splashed water on his face and patted it dry with a towel, and then leaned against the wall, in no hurry to join the arguing strangers out in the lobby. He was beginning to seriously regret his decision to come here today.  
  
As long as he was in the bathroom, Connor decided to take a leak before facing the nutcases again. Afterward, he washed his hands and stared at the ancient battle axe affixed to the wall, trying to decide if it was artwork or weapon. Finally, he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer and he walked back out into the lobby in time to hear Buffy say, "...and Hart did a crappy job on the mojo. I'd say all bets are off if you want to get out of your deal with them. They didn't fulfill their end of the bargain."  
  
"I don't know that I want to get out of the deal," Angel responded. "We've been able to do a lot of good since we took over Wolfram and Hart. It's given us resources that we never would have...." he trailed off as he saw Connor.  
  
Buffy was shaking her head and didn't notice. "I still think you're making a big mistake. You don't lay down in a bed of manure and wake up smelling like roses."  
  
"There's something creepy about that place," Dawn agreed. "I feel it every time I walk in."  
  
The girls noticed the direction of Angel's gaze at the same time and cut their arguments short.  
  
"Look, Angel," Dawn said. "I know you've got tons more yelling at me to do, but could we please have some lunch before we get into any more of this? I'm sure Connor is starving too." She looked at him for support and he nodded.  
  
"I wouldn't mind a sandwich or something," he said.  
  
"I'll call the deli," Buffy agreed.  
  
"We actually do have a fully stocked kitchen," Angel reminded her.  
  
"Do YOU want to make lunch?" she asked, as she walked over to the phone to place the order.  
  
Angel shrugged and turned his attention back to Connor. He couldn't seem to take his eyes away and it was starting to make Connor extremely uncomfortable.  
  
"So ... how is your, uh, family?" Angel asked.  
  
"Fine. Fine," Connor nodded. "My sister, Meghan fell off her bike and sprained her wrist but otherwise...." He looked around the room a little, anything to get away from the intensity of Angel's stare.  
  
"That's good," Angel replied. "I mean, not the sprained wrist, but the, ah, rest of it. Do you ... get along with your parents?"  
  
"Sure. I mean, they're parents, what can you say? I'm eighteen and my mom still thinks I'm eight sometimes but other than that...." He shrugged and struggled to think of something else to add. "I'm going to U.S.C. in fall."  
  
"Really?" Angel managed to sound disappointed with one word.  
  
Connor looked at him sharply. "It's a good school."  
  
"Oh, of course. Sure. I didn't say it wasn't," Angel hedged.  
  
"What about you?" Connor turned the tables and began grilling him. "Dawn says you used to run a private investigation firm that helped people with paranormal problems but now you've sold out and are C.E.O. of an evil law firm."  
  
"That about covers it," Angel said dryly, giving Dawn yet another glare.  
  
"How's that going for you?" Connor asked blandly, fixing Angel with icy eyes.  
  
"It's complicated, but I think we're making some real headway in changing how things are done there."  
  
"Did you ever read 'The Devil and Daniel Webster'?" Connor simply asked with a raised brow.  
  
"Yes," Angel snapped with a frown.  
  
"Food's coming," Buffy announced from over by the phone. "Let's all sit down and talk while we wait." She gestured toward Angel's office.  
  
Dawn and Connor followed Buffy inside and found a pair of chairs to sit in. Buffy perched on the edge of Angel's desk. Angel went straight for his massive chair on the far side of the desk, distancing himself. Suddenly everything felt stiff and formal and no one was speaking.  
  
"All right," Buffy finally prompted, "Connor, you must have a lot of questions."  
  
"Well," Connor began thoughtfully, "first of all I have to say that I still have a hard time believing that any of this is true. I'm not saying I do believe it, but I'm willing to listen because after the weird things that have been happening lately ... nothing's impossible."  
  
"What kind of 'things'?" Buffy asked curiously.  
  
"A couple of weeks ago I, uh, killed a ... I guess it was a vampire." Connor had trouble spitting the word out it sounded so ridiculous. "And last night Dawn and I were walking in the park and I was attacked by a...." He couldn't remember the name.  
  
"Dracon," Dawn supplied promptly. "He took it out in less than three minutes," she added proudly. "He may not remember who he is, but he's still got the skills."  
  
Buffy and Angel both looked at him with interest. Connor was embarrassed.  
  
"Anyway," he said, trying to put the questions back on them. "I wondered, if he's supposedly my father," he gestured at Angel, "what happened to my mother in this alternate world?"  
  
Angel finally spoke. "She died giving birth to you," he said quietly.  
  
"Oh," Connor tried to feel something about that, but it held no more meaning to him than if it had happened to a character in a story. There was a long pause then he continued.  
  
"And I get that I was supposed to have had some kind of mental breakdown but wouldn't therapy have been a more reasonable option than creating a whole imaginary life?" Connor infused the words with a teasing sarcasm that bordered on sounding bitter.  
  
Both Buffy and Dawn looked at Angel as if they'd been wondering the very same thing. He squirmed a little under their combined gazes and tried to explain.  
  
"You don't understand. You don't what it was like here last year; the pressures and the escalating disasters. Every time I tried to reach Connor, to talk to him or to heal things between us, something else would happen and things would get even worse. At the end...." he trailed off and they waited so long for the rest of his thought that Connor began to wonder if he would ever say anything.  
  
"At the end," he looked directly in Connor's eyes for the first time. "You were miserable. I've never seen such despair in my whole life and I've lived a hell of a long time." Connor wondered what that meant since his 'father' barely looked old enough to have conceived him at age twelve.  
  
Angel sighed. "Or maybe I have," he admitted, "but it's different when it's your own child in pain." He leaned forward and spoke sincerely. "I just wanted to save you and give you a happy, normal life, and when Wolfram and Hart gave me this opportunity...."  
  
"Whoa!" Connor interrupted. "The satanic law firm?" He turned to Dawn. "You didn't tell me that! You just said it was powerful people."  
  
"They're pretty powerful," Dawn said with a sheepish grimace and a shrug.  
  
"So I was the price for your deal with the devil," Connor said.  
  
"No! It wasn't like that," Angel exclaimed. "I didn't sell you for power. I accepted the position to SAVE you."  
  
"Either way," Connor shook his head, "you made the deal. And that never ends well."  
  
"You don't understand," Angel reiterated in a mutter.  
  
"Whatever," Connor tried to change the subject, "next question. What are your superpowers?"  
  
"My...? I don't have any ... well, all right, I have, but I'm not a superhero or something." Angel sounded flustered. "I mean, I do have extra strength and speed and hearing and great night vision, but there are also the drawbacks."  
  
"Which would be...?"  
  
"No sunlight," Dawn replied quickly then looked like she wanted to clap her hand over her mouth.  
  
"Why 'no sunlight'?" Connor asked, looking at her strangely, and then a thought suddenly occurred to him and he looked back at Angel with wide eyes. Everyone was silent for a moment.  
  
"No. No way," Connor whispered his denial as he continued to stare at Angel, who shifted in his chair uncomfortably.  
  
"There are a few ... details that Dawn left out of the story which you should probably know," he said. "Your birth was kind of ... a miracle, something which shouldn't have been possible yet it happened." He paused before dropping the anvil. "Your mother, Darla, was a vampire ... and so am I." Into the long silence that followed, Angel cast another explanatory pebble, "But I'm not evil. I have a soul."  
  
'Vampires. Evil. Miracle. Soul.' The words swirled around in Connor's brain until they carried no more meaning than a child's nonsense syllables. He thought absently that he should be more upset than he was, but since the whole thing seemed like a comic book plot it was hard to take it seriously. He had an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing but was afraid if he did it would turn into hysterics.  
  
Suddenly he felt warm fingers cover his own. He glanced down to see Dawn's slender, beringed hand covering his. He glanced up at her eyes and she smiled encouragingly.  
  
"I can't believe this," he said to her almost confidingly. "I won't."  
  
"You have to," she replied, still offering that half smile but with infinitely sad eyes. She turned to Angel. "Show him," she demanded.  
  
Angel frowned.  
  
"Go ahead," Buffy agreed solemnly, nodding at Angel.  
  
Connor watched as with a long-suffering sigh, Angel complied with their wishes. His face shifted and changed, making that same squelching tissue, grinding bone sound that Connor had heard the night he face the vampire girl on the beach. The result was a Halloween mask of ridged brow and yellow cat eyes, lips drawn back slightly to reveal oversized, pointed canines. Connor's heart pounded in his chest and every instinct told him to run or to kill.  
  
"I can't ... I can't hear any more of this," he muttered as he jumped to his feet and turned to leave the office, tripping over the leg of his chair and knocking it askew as he went for the door.  
  
"Connor. Wait," he heard Dawn call, but he was already halfway across the lobby.  
  
To be continued.... 


	6. 6

"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 6  
  
Thanks for continuing to give feedback. My original plan was to have a kiss from Dawn unlock the spell and let the flood of memories back in, but it was too reminiscent of Kennedy kissing Willow to break the Warren glamour and I decided it would actually be more interesting for Connor to be forced to accept his true history at face value – to have to take it on faith and then choose what he should do with the information. The plot kind of flowed in a new direction after I decided that.  
  
"Let me talk to him," Dawn said, holding up a hand to stop Angel from charging out of the office after Connor.  
  
"Haven't you already done enough damage," Angel growled but stayed put behind his desk. His face had slipped back into its human form and his worried brown eyes made him look more like the family dog than the scary jungle cat image that his vampire features evoked.  
  
"He'll listen to me," Dawn told Angel with more confidence than she felt. "Just give me a minute." Before Buffy could add her input, Dawn whisked out of the office.

* * *

Connor hadn't gone far. From across the lobby she could see the door to the garden still closing and Dawn quickly followed to find him standing in the sunlight, back ramrod straight, hands clenched at his sides, face pointing up to the sky. As she approached, she could hear him breathing raggedly. She was afraid to have him turn around, didn't want to see him this close to tears.  
  
But when he did finally swivel to face her, his eyes were dry and hard, filled not with tears but with accusing anger. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Dawn spread her hands helplessly and shrugged. "How? It's too bizarre for anyone to believe without seeing and I figured you already had enough to deal with. Vampire parents? Just a little over the top."  
  
She came up beside him and ventured to place a hand on his arm. Dawn was a tall girl and able to look Connor directly in the eye without tilting her head to look up. "Believe me, I KNOW how hard it is for you to accept all this. I know from personal experience." She paused to consider then abruptly decided that knowing her similar story might be a comfort to him right now. "Connor, my ... background is as messed up as yours." Dawn searched for words to tell the story clearly and succinctly. "A few years ago there was this hell god named Glory who was trying to find the way back to her own dimension, unfortunately she couldn't get there without a special key to unlock the interdimensional portal ... And could I sound any more like a Trekkie?"  
  
Connor didn't respond to her joke, just stood there and fixed her with his intense gaze, so she took a breath and pressed on. "But opening that portal would not only allow her to leave this world but would let creatures from the hell dimension into our world. It was really important that Glory not find the key." He nodded slightly so she knew he was taking it in.  
  
"So these monks who were charged with protecting the key from her hid it by, uh, changing its form."  
  
"What was the key like originally?" Connor asked curiously, becoming interested in her tale despite himself.  
  
"Kind of a glowy, green energy thingy ... I guess." Dawn became self- conscious as she approached the point of the story. She could feel herself beginning to blush. "Anyway, they hid it in the form of a human being. Then they created memories for that human being and everyone who came in contact with her. They gave her a whole life history down to the tiniest details...." Dawn trailed off. It was easier to think of herself in the third person while telling this, as if it had happened to some fairytale character but not to her personally.  
  
"You?" Connor asked softly. His eyes flicked back and forth across hers as if reading them.  
  
"Yeah," Dawn said ruefully. "The monks thought the key would be safe if they put it in the Slayer's care, and that's how Buffy became my sister."  
  
Connor made an unintelligible sound that translated into, 'wow' or 'holy crap.' Dawn smiled. "So you see, false memories aren't as unusual as you might think." She nudged his arm again. "And I know at first you think it's impossible to live with the ... the knowledge that your life is basically a lie, but...." she shrugged. "You get used to it."  
  
Connor raised his arm and rubbed at the back of his neck, his face contorted into that familiar frown. For one instant Dawn felt as evil as if she'd murdered a nest of baby rabbits. She had single-handedly shattered his illusions, taken the happy, college-bound teenager she had seen at the mall and turned him right back into a tormented warrior for good. Had it really been her right to do that? But then a renewed sense of belief washed over her and she was again convinced that her actions had been not only justified but perhaps even inevitable.  
  
"So, what are your powers now?" Connor asked, dropping his hand to his side again. The frown cleared from his forehead leaving him grimmer and older looking, but not despondent. "What can a former 'key' do?"  
  
"Research," Dawn responded promptly. "I told you, my sister's the one with super strength and stuff. I got jack. There's a lot more to the whole Glory story but the upshot is that without a door to open I'm just an average girl." She made a face, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head. "As normal and boring as mud."  
  
Connor smiled slightly. "I don't think 'boring' is a word that could ever be linked with you." Dawn felt her blush deepen.  
  
Then he shook his head. "This is a lot to take in all at once." His mouth opened and closed as he searched for words. "I mean, what am I supposed to do with all this information? Let it change my life?" He looked at Dawn fiercely again. "I'm supposed to ... what? Skip college and become a full time monster killer or whatever? And what do I say to my parents, my family? Do I just keep on pretending...?"  
  
"It's not pretending!" Dawn interrupted. "You can't think of it that way. I used to drive myself crazy with that, trying to figure out my place in the world. But it comes down to ... the connections you have with people. Whether the memories are manufactured or not, the feelings you have for your family are as real as ... as anything. They're REAL!" Dawn insisted as if Connor had argued with her. "Buffy is as much my real sister as if I'd been born in this world the normal way. And my mom.... Do you think it didn't rip my heart out when she died just as much as if I were her flesh and blood daughter?"  
  
Dawn could hear her voice rising and feel her emotions spinning out of control but was powerless to stop the flow of words. "So your family is still your family. No one is telling you to stop loving them or to cut them off, but now you know that there's more to who you are and that there are some decisions you'll have to make. Yeah, you could pull a Peter Parker and continue with your college life by day and crime fighting at night or something, but I can tell you from Buffy's experience, it's not easy. Once you realize all the work that needs to be done, how much help people need...." Dawn trailed off, realizing that she was beginning to sound like a religious zealot. She found that she was kind of in Connor's face, so she backed off a few paces and looked aimlessly around the garden in her embarrassment.  
  
"My head aches," Connor announced suddenly. He squinted his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Can we, like, take a time out for a minute."  
  
"Of course," she replied. "Our food should be here by now. You'll feel better after you eat something. Come on. Let's go back inside."  
  
He nodded and followed her into the Hyperion for the second time that day.

* * *

During their lunch, they managed to keep the conversation as mundane as possible. Connor asked questions about the fall of Sunnydale as he nibbled his sandwich and snuck glances at Angel, who was sipping suspicious red liquid from a mug.  
  
Dawn and Buffy tag teamed their way through their explanation of The First and its attacks on them through minions and psychological games and finally by opening the Hellmouth itself. Buffy was spare in her description of the battle while Dawn enthused over Willow's part in redistributing power throughout all the potential Slayers. As they got closer to the climax of the story, Buffy became increasingly brief in her answers, obviously reluctant to relive it.  
  
"And then we found out what the amulet was for," Dawn told him excitedly. "It focused the light throughout the entire chamber and burnt up all the Ubervamps at once. Then things started collapsing and Buffy barely got out in time."  
  
"What about the guy?" Connor asked. "The one wearing the amulet, uh, 'Spike' was it?"  
  
Buffy and Dawn fell silent, each waiting for the other to answer.  
  
"He died," Angel said shortly, pushing off from the wall against which he was leaning and going to refill his mug 'o blood.  
  
With Angel temporarily out of the room, Connor felt some of his nervousness lift. He felt free to ask the question that had been bothering him. "So, some vampires have souls and then they aren't evil any more and run around trying to make up for all the bad they did," he confirmed. "What about my ... mother? Did she have a soul too?"  
  
"No," Buffy said. "Only Angel, because he was cursed with one, and Spike, because he fought for one."  
  
"Fought for a soul? Why would an evil being do that?"  
  
Buffy took a sip of her soda and didn't answer, but Connor thought her huge eyes looked infinitely sad.  
  
"For love," Dawn answered quietly. "It seems like a paradox, but evil things can love," she continued. "I'm sure your mother loved you. Angel told us she sacrificed her life so you could be born."  
  
They were all silent a moment and the sound of Angel's cell phone ringing and his voice answering could be heard from the little kitchenette off of the office. Almost simultaneously, the main phone at the front desk began to ring.  
  
"Should we get that?" Dawn asked, exchanging looks with Buffy.  
  
Buffy shrugged, picked up the extension on Angel's desk and pressed a button. "Angel Investigations. Uh, We hope the help ... I mean, we help the hopeless."  
  
This was followed by a series of 'yeah' and uh-huh' and 'how many' and "what did they look like" after which Buffy scribbled down something on the blotter of Angel's desk.  
  
"Okay. We'll be right over. Just barricade the basement door until we get there." She hung up the phone.  
  
"What?" Dawn asked promptly.  
  
Buffy read her notes. "About a foot tall, six legged, yellow fur, lots of teeth and claws. Maybe a half dozen of them. They're locked in a basement right now but the man said it sounds like they're chewing their way through the door. It's wood."  
  
Dawn looked eager. "Did they burrow into the basement?"  
  
"I don't know. The guy didn't say."  
  
""Sounds like an infestation of Yarrow demons." Dawn leaped to her feet. "Let me just check it out in Rosewell's Compendium to make sure that's what we're dealing with. If it is, you don't want to just cleave them in two all willy-nilly it only makes more. Like Mickey's brooms in The Sorcerer's Apprentice."  
  
Without waiting for an answer, Dawn left to go to her room for her reference book.  
  
Angel re-entered the office in a hurry, tucking his phone back in his breast pocket. "There's a ... situation going on that I have to attend to," he explained to Buffy and Connor. "It's kind of delicate. There are some trans-dimensional immigration issues involved and important clients that we have to appease at the same time that we stop them from transporting illegals into this world. Already there've been attacks over on the east side and we have to do something before it escalates into invasion proportions." At the blank looks on both of their faces, Angel waved a hand. "Long and involved story. The gist of it is, I'm needed at the office."  
  
He faced Connor. "I know this is incredibly bad timing. You have all these questions and we should spend time talking ... but I kind of have to go."  
  
"Of course," Connor answered.  
  
"There are clients you have to 'appease'?" Buffy interrupted. "Angel, that is so not good. Listen to what you're saying."  
  
"We're not having this discussion again," he snapped. "Not right now." He headed for the office door.  
  
"Well," she returned, "while you're off 'appeasing clients', we'll take care of your business here. I guess you forgot to disconnect phone service for Angel Investigations because we got a call a minute ago. There's a family in trouble with some Yarrow demons."  
  
"Yarrows?" Angel stopped on the threshold. "You have to be careful with those. If you cut them up they'll...."  
  
"Make more. Yeah. That's what Dawn said."  
  
"Good. Thanks for dealing with that," he responded. "And, Connor, I'm sorry about leaving but if you can stick around a while longer, I'll come back as soon as I can and we can talk about ... everything."  
  
Connor nodded. "No problem. I'll, um, help Buffy and Dawn with the ... with the Yahoos."  
  
Angel hesitated. "It's ... really good to see you again," he said, offering an almost shy smile. He spoke haltingly, "I'm really glad that you've been, uh, happy with your ... family, and I hope you can understand why I did what I did."  
  
"I do." Connor managed to quirk his lips into an answering smile. "I get it. It's just ... a lot to process all at once, you know?" He felt a sudden rush of pity for this hulking stranger, who came across all bad-ass cool but seemed sort of lost and lonely underneath.  
  
Angel nodded once and walked from the office in a swirl of black leather coat. Connor wondered absently if vampires were prone to be chilly, because it was over eighty degrees outside. Then he wondered how Angel was able to move around in daylight and he opened his mouth to ask.  
  
"Special glass on his Viper and on all the windows at Wolfram and Hart." Buffy guessed his question and answered before he could speak.  
  
"Where'd Angel go?" Dawn asked, glancing over her shoulder, as she came back into the room lugging a thick, leather bound book.  
  
"Wolfram and Hart," Buffy answered, the name sounding like a sneer.  
  
"Oh." Dawn thumped the book down on the desk and flipped it open to a page somewhere in the middle. "There's your culprits. They actually look kinda cute, don't they? Like big, fluffy kitties ... but with the extra legs."  
  
Connor stepped up behind her to look over her shoulder at the illustration. "Yarrows," he read, "tunneling demonoids of the Promod genus. Destructive to property but essentially non-threatening to humans. However, will inflict severe bites and scratches if cornered. Propagate by division. May be eradicated by submersion in water."  
  
"We have to cage them and drown them?" Buffy exclaimed. "That's terrible!"  
  
"WE don't have to do anything," Dawn said. "You're the Slayer. You take them out."  
  
"I love my job," Buffy muttered. "So where do you suppose Angel keeps the live traps?"

* * *

That afternoon Connor learned that heavy work gloves were a good thing to have when trying to catch Yarrow demons. Unfortunately, he wasn't wearing any gloves and by the time the last of the creatures was caught and shoved into the dog cage they had picked up at a pet store, his arms and hands were shredded and bloodied.  
  
Dawn slammed the cage door shut as Connor pulled his hand out, just missing his fingers. "There! That's the last of 'em."  
  
Buffy was searching the far corner of the room with a flashlight just to make sure.  
  
Connor wiped the blood away from his torn skin so he could examine his wounds. "They aren't like fluffy kitties at all, Dawn," he said dryly. "And I don't have any qualms about drowning the little bastards. Do you think these scratches will get infected? I mean, we don't know what kind of bizarre enzymes or whatever these things have on their claws. My skin might start dissolving or something."  
  
"Don't be such a baby. We'll ask Mr. Dorman for some hydrogen peroxide and douse you and Buffy good before we leave. It's the least the guy can do for us for exterminating his Yarrows."  
  
"They're not exterminated yet," Buffy said, coming over to look at the cage of spitting, screeching demons. "Now we have to take them to the docks and drop them in the harbor."  
  
"Why do I feel like the Mafia?" Dawn asked.  
  
Buffy and Connor used a broom handle as a pole to push through the loops at the top and lift the heavy, demon-laden cage. They struggled awkwardly up the cellar stairs and carried the trapped Yarrows to the back of the van they were borrowing from W&H.  
  
"Thank you, so much!" the elderly man exclaimed. "I had no idea such things existed in the world. I don't know what I would have done without you to help me. I called animal control and the man took one look and left. I was desperate!"  
  
"Well, sir," Dawn said politely. "Yarrows aren't the only monsters in this world and they're certainly not the most dangerous. So you keep your eyes peeled when you're out at night and take care not to go anywhere alone. And if you ever see anything that seems out of the ordinary or just plain 'not normal,' please call Angel Investigations right away." She whipped out one of Angel's old business cards with a flourish.  
  
"Our rates our reasonable," she added, before turning to join Buffy and Connor in the van. "Cordelia was a genius," she announced over the clamor of the Yarrows in the back as she took her seat. "Buffy, you should have been charging a fee for your services all this time. What you do is a real job and you should be compensated for it! I know Anya thought so too."  
  
"It's not a job. It's a mission," Buffy said firmly. "I can't collect money from people who are in trouble. It's just not right."  
  
"The police get paid," Connor pointed out. "And firemen, all kinds of rescue workers and medical personnel. Even Red Cross workers get paid. I think it's reasonable."  
  
"Superman doesn't get paid. Batman, Spiderman ... uh, the Incredible Hulk...." Buffy argued.  
  
"Superman and Spiderman have decent paying day jobs. Batman is independently wealthy and you aren't a comic book hero anyway," Dawn countered. "Besides the Watcher's Council manages to make money – how do you think they do that and why isn't it shared with any of the Slayers?"  
  
"Well, it will be now that Giles and I are reorganizing," Buffy's tone ended the discussion.  
  
The mention of Giles and the upcoming move to England shut Dawn down. With every day that passed she was becoming more certain that she didn't want to leave sunny California for soggy wet England, but how to convince Buffy.  
  
To be continued.... 


	7. 7

"Dawn in L.A." – chapter 7

If there's anyone still reading this, I don't deserve you. I know there's nothing more irritating than a fic that fizzles. I've read a few myself. But now that my OC obsession has cooled a little, I thought I'd try to finish up some abandoned works.

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When they returned to the Hyperion in early evening, Angel was still not there. Buffy called him and, after she hung up, informed Connor and Dawn that they were in full crisis mode at Wolfram and Hart and that she was going over to help out.

"Angel is really sorry not to be able to be here," she explained to Connor. "He knows what a big ... adjustment all this has to be for you but there's really no way he can leave right now and ... you know what? I think I'll let Angel make his own damn excuses." Buffy frowned. "Why don't you hang out here with Dawn, try to relax and get some rest, Dawn will get one of the rooms ready for you, and I'll make sure that Angel talks to you in the morning."

"Do you want me to...? I mean, I could help," Connor offered, looking doubtfully at his bandaged hands.

Buffy waved him off. "No. You've done more than enough today. Take it easy. Watch a movie or something."

She left, and Dawn and Connor were alone again.

"Well," Connor said, sinking down one of the lobby benches, "they didn't talk about this in Career Pathways in middle school."

Dawn laughed and plunked down next to him. "I know. It's a little like the Mafia, once you get sucked in it's hard to get out. When you know there's evil with a capital E to fight, it makes it kind of hard to get excited about going to college for a business degree or becoming a teacher or whatever." She gestured toward a locked cupboard along one wall of the room. "And, hey, why study medieval weapons when you can use them? Come see this, you'll appreciate it."

She got up and tugged weary Connor to his feet and over to the cabinet. She opened the doors to reveal row after row of battle axes, broadswords, maces, knives, pikes and other less recognizable sharp metal implements."

"A mace! He actually uses a mace?" Connor marveled as he reached to remove the weapon from the wall and reverently touch its spikes, stained a rusty red.

"Go ahead. Give it a swing," Dawn said, watching his enthusiasm with amusement.

Connor got a firm grip on the shaft with his bandaged hand, stepped away from Dawn into the center of the room, and gave the mace a whirl or two around his head. "It's heavy," he commented. "Bet it packs a helluva wallop."

"Too messy," Dawn said. "Why mash your opponent to a pulp and get blood and guts all over when you can..." she took one of the knives from the wall, "cut clean and deep and go straight for the heart?"

"Oh, so you're a weapons expert too?" he teased, lowering the mace and returning it to its place.

"No. Just an opinion from watching a battle or two, usually bound and gagged and waiting to be rescued unfortunately."

"You've led an interesting life." Connor turned from the weaponry to regard her. "It must have been hard to go to school and try and live an ordinary life when you knew what really goes on under the surface."

"Harder for Buffy. I used to be so jealous of her with all those mad fighting skills and everybody always looking up to her but I know better now. She's lost a lot and given up a lot and now I'm happy to just be Research Gal." She closed the cupboard doors.

"I'll show you to one of the rooms," she said, turning to lead him upstairs.

The phone rang. Dawn let it. She and Conner were halfway up the stairs when the answering machine kicked in with Fred's voice saying "Angel Investigations. No one is able to answer your call right now but your business is important to us. Please leave a message."

A man's voice spoke. "Is anyone there? Please! God! Somebody pick up. It's back! It's here and I don't know how much longer the doors will hold." The sound of splintering wood and a woman's screams were in the background.

Dawn raced back downstairs and across the lobby to grab the phone.

"Can I help you?" she said breathlessly.

Both her voice and the caller's were broadcast from the answering machine.

"It came back. It's here for the baby. Please. You have to help us!"

"Where are you at? Can you give me your name and address, sir?" Dawn attempted a calm tone to soothe the man's panic.

"Gary Messner, 405 Wembling Way. You remember. You helped us before, but it came back and now it's...." There were more splintering sounds. "Oh my god, please, hurry!"

"We're on our way," Dawn assured him before hanging up.

Connor had followed her downstairs and was standing across the front desk from her. "What do we do?"

"We have to help. There's no time to get Buffy or Angel or any of the others." Dawn took a deep breath.

"I'll get weapons," he said.

"And I'll get directions from MapQuest and pull the file on the case."

"How will we get there?" Connor asked, already throwing open the doors of the weapons cabinet.

"Gunn's car is parked just down the block. His keys have to be here somewhere." Dawn was simultaneously trying to type in the address on the computer and search for the car keys on the desk. "Here!" she said triumphantly, grabbing them up.

Within minutes they were on the road, trying to navigate the metropolis and read up on the case at the same time.

"Looks like Mr. Messner is not a good guy," Dawn said. "He sold his firstborn to a demon named Lucistopheles in exchange for financial success but when the baby was born he wanted to back out of the contract. He moved his family to the suburbs trying to escape the demon but of course it came after them. Unfortunately there is no way to kill this demon – at least not in this world – so Wes found an incantation to open a portal to another dimension and they drove it through. The portal closed behind it and the family was saved ... until now."

"What does that mean, 'Can't kill it'?" Connor asked, turning sharply to the left at the intersection. "As in ... can't?"

"Oh there's usually some way, but it obviously takes more than a sword or a stake. I think our best bet is to use this spell to open the portal again. See, Wes made a copy of the page and put it in the file." She held up a paper.

"You can make that work?" he asked.

"I think so. It's a pretty basic incantation, doesn't call for any extra props – herbs or incense, painted kabals or blood of a virgin. I think I can do it."

"And you want me to fight a non-killable demon and try to herd it through the portal you may or may not be able to conjure up?"

"That's the plan."

"Cool." Connor pulled into the drive of a beautiful mansion hidden behind brick walls on a street of equally fabulous houses nestled in their carefully groomed landscaping.

As they drew closer to the house they could see the wide double doors in front were gaping open like a black mouth ready to swallow whatever entered. One of the doors hung drunkenly off its hinges.

"Oh boy," Dawn breathed. "This doesn't look good."

They jumped out of the car, Connor armed with a sword, Dawn with her paperwork and a short knife, and they headed inside.

They discovered the reason for the blackness in the front hall was a broken light, as they crunched across shards of glass. A piteous screaming and more sounds of splintering wood came from upstairs. They followed the noise.

Halfway up the steps lay sprawled the body of, presumably, Mr. Messner. Without a head it was hard to tell but the figure seemed more masculine than feminine and the screaming from upstairs definitely sounded female.

Dawn and Connor stepped over the body and continued creeping up the stairs.

They reached the upper floor and at the end of the hallway, illuminated by light cast from an open bathroom door, stood an eight foot tall monster. His attention was totally focused on battering his way through the door in front of him. His roars of rage were interspersed with blows to the door. The screaming was coming from the other side of the door and was mixed with an infant's angry wails.

Dawn didn't waste any time beginning her incantation. She hoped to have the portal in place before the demon even noticed they were there. She muttered the Latin words rapidly under her breath, aware of Connor at her side raising his sword in readiness for whatever happened next.

"Keep screaming, lady," Dawn thought as she read down the page and noticed a shimmering in the air off to the left of the demon – right in front of the bathroom door as a matter of fact. The haziness grew until the features of this world were masked by a pulsating ball of energy. Then the swirling mass tore like a piece of cheap fabric and there was an open door between two universes.

"Go. Now!" Dawn hissed at Connor, who seemed frozen by her side.

"I know this...." he whispered and at the same moment the single-minded beast at the end of the hall finally noticed the portal which had opened almost by its side.

If the situation hadn't been so terrifying, the expression of surprise on the horned demon's face would have been almost comical. It turned to look down the hall to see what had created the portal, saw Dawn and Connor and barreled down on them like a freight train ... a very angry freight train.

Connor shook off his momentary distraction and raised his blade to meet the onrushing Lucistopheles. The creature ran right onto the blade, sending a shock wave up the metal and into Connor's arm. He staggered backward then dropped the blade and ducked as the monster swiped it's huge, clawed hand across the space where Connor's head had been only seconds before.

Since he was already down low, Connor tackled the beast's knees trying to knock it off its feet, but it was like hitting a stone wall.

"Oh my god, we're in trouble," Dawn thought. She tried to distract the monster, screaming right into its face and then racing down the hall toward the portal in an attempt to get it to follow her.

Simultaneously, Connor pulled his sword back out of its body with all his might and swung again. This time the blow cut across the demon's throat and while not lethal, seemed to give it some pain. It retreated down the hall a couple of steps and Connor followed, slicing viciously as he advanced.

"Hey! Over here!" Dawn shrieked. "We've got your baby here. Nice, hot, fresh baby flesh right behind this door!"

The creature seemed distracted by having an enemy at either end of the hall. In the time it took to look back and forth between Connor and Dawn, Connor was able to get in another onslaught of sword blows and drive it a few steps closer to their goal.

Meanwhile, the portal was already starting to close. The shimmering edges were drawing in like the puckered edges of a wound healing up and the hole was diminishing.

With a sudden lunge and all of his strength, Connor drove his shoulder into the monster, knocking it backward and through the dimensional doorway. Dawn heard an audible crack as something in Connor's shoulder snapped. He screamed out his pain at the same moment that the demon howled in anger at being banished once again to an alternate dimension.

"If you don't kill it, it'll just come back," Dawn called. "You have to finish it!"

Connor still gasping in pain lifted his sword in his uninjured left hand and charged after the demon. He leaped through the portal and Dawn watched him battle Lucistopheles on a sun-drenched field in another world. It was like looking through a telescope, the circumference of which was rapidly closing.

Connor thrust the sword into the demon's flesh, slashing and tearing. His bandaged hands slipped on the hilt as he pulled it out of the monster's body and he dropped the sword. The demon took the advantage, backhanding Connor and sending him sailing several yards through the air.

Connor lay for a second, the breath knocked out of him, then scrambled on all fours to get the sword again. He lifted it wearily in both hands and with a cry and a mighty swing, cleaved the demon's head from its body. He stood for a moment over his foe, gasping for air and resting his weight against the sword which now stood point down in the dirt.

"Hurry!" Dawn shrieked. "It's closing."

He looked up at her cry and began to run for the portal. He dove through at the last possible moment and landed in the hallway at her feet. Dawn grabbed his arm and jerked his body the rest of the way through the hole just before it closed. She dreaded to think what would happen if half of his body was in this world and the other half in a different dimension. Dawn sank down beside him on the floor and caught her breath.

The silence following the battle was broken only by the continued sobs of the baby and woman still barricaded inside the bedroom.

"You okay?" Dawn finally asked after several moments.

"I think I broke something, but yeah, I guess so." He rolled over onto his back with a groan and lay staring up at the ceiling.

Dawn rose to her feet and walked over to knock softly on the locked door. "Mrs. Messner? It's okay. It's all over now," she called.

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Several hours later Dawn and Connor entered the hotel for the third time that day. They dragged themselves through the front door, Connor leaning on Dawn for support, his right arm held tight to his body. They had made a stop at a hospital emergency room long enough to find out his shoulder was only dislocated. After the doctor popped it back in, they snuck out before too many questions were asked or the phony personal information they gave questioned.

There was still no one at the Hyperion.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Dawn said, leading the way. "It's been a hell of a day."

While she made up a bed in one of the rooms, Connor took a quick shower and changed into some clean sweats and a Tshirt. Dawn was fiddling with the thermostat in the room trying to get some heat established when he came out of the bathroom, still looking bedraggled but fresher.

He sank down on the bed with a contented sigh and fell back on the pillows, eyes closed. "Thanks."

"It's kind of chilly in here. Angel doesn't feel the cold so this place is never really comfortable." She turned and watched him before asking, "What happened back there? When the portal opened you said something...."

Connor opened his eyes. "I remembered seeing that happen before, the air changing then ripping open and seeing someplace different on the other side." He paused. "Only it was here. The place I saw through the portal. It was the lobby of this hotel."

He sat up and looked at Dawn. "For the first time it wasn't just a sense of déjà vu but a real memory. I remembered finding my way through to here."

To be continued....

Okay friends, I'm still not sure where this is going – well actually I know where it's going, just not necessarily the route it's going to take to get there. Anyway, I will try to be good and update more frequently.

8


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